^^'m:- \ T H E/" POEMS O S S I A THE SON OF FINGAL. TRANSLATED By JAMES M A C P H E R S O N, Efq A NEW EDITION, CAREFULLY CORRECTED, AND GREATLY IMPROVED. We may boldly affign Oflian a place among thofe, whofe works aie to lafl for ages, Blair. PHILADELPHIA: Printed by THOMAS LANG, N^ 21, Church-Alley, M DCC XC. -t PREFACE. WITHOUT increafing his genius, the Au- thor may have improved his language, in the eleven years, that the follc^ving poems have been in the hands of the pubhc. Errors in diftion might have been committed at twenty - four, which the experience of a riper age may remove ; and fome exuberances m imagery m.ay be reftrained, with advantage, by a degree of judgment acquired in the progrefs of time. Im- preifed with this opmion, he ran over the whole with attention and accuracy ; and, he hopes, he has brought the work to a flate of corre6tnefs, which will preclude all future improvements. The eagernefs, with which thefe Poems have been received abroad, are a recompcnce for the coldnefs with which a few have affecled to treat them at home. All the polite nations of Europe have transferred them into their refpeclive lan- guages ; and they fpeak of him, who brought them to light, in terms that might flatter the va- nity of one fond of fame, in a convenient in- difference for a literary reputation, the Author hears praife without being elevated, and ribald- ry, without being deprefled. He has frequently feen the firfi bellowed too precipitately ; and the latter is fo faithlefs to its purpofe, that it is often the only index to merit in the prefent age. Though 11 PREFACE. Though the tafle, which defines genius by the points of the compafs, is a fubjeci fit for mirth in itfelf, it is often a ferious matter in the fale of a work. When rivers define the hmits of abilities, as well as the boundaries of coun- tries, a Writer may meafure his fuccefs, by the latitude under which he was born. It was to avoid a part of this inconvenience, that the Au- thor is faid, by fome, who fpeak without any authority, to have afcribed his own productions to another name. If this was the cafe, he was but young in the art of deception. When he placed the poet in antiquity, the Tranflator mould have been born fouth of the Tweed. These obfervations rearard onlv the frivolous m matters of literature; thele, however, form a majority in every age and nation. In this country, men of genuine taile abound ; but their fhill voice is drowned in the clamours of a multitude, who judge by fafli ion of poetry, as of drefs. The truth is, to judge aright requires almolt as much s^enius as to write well ; and good critics are as rare as great poets. Though two hundred thoufand Romans ftood up, when Virgil came into the theatre, Varius only could correcl the ^ncid. He that obtains fame, muft receive it throuirh mere falhion : and o;ratifv his vanity with the applaufe of men, of whole judg- ment he cannot approve. The following Poems, it muilbe confefTed, are more calculated to pleafe peribns of exqui- fite feelings of heart, than thole who receive all [heir imprefFions by the car. The novelty of cadencel PREFACE. Ill cadence, in what, is called a profe verfion, tho' not deltkute of harmony, will not, to common readers, lupply the abfence of the frequent re- turns of rhime. Thn -.vas the opinion of the Writer himfelf, though he yielded to the judg- ment of others, in a mode, which prefented freedom and dignity of expreflion, in (lead of fetters, which cramp the thought, whilfl the harmony of language is preferved. His inten- tion was to publifh in verfe. The making of poetry, like any other handicraft, may be learn- ed by induilry ; and he had ferved his appren- tice fhip, though in fecret, to the mufes. It is, however, doubtful, whether the harmo- ny which thefe poems might derive from rhime, even in much better hands than thoie of the trandator, could atone for the fimplicity and energy, which they would lofe. The determi- nation of this point fhall be left to the readers of this preface. The following is the beginning of a poem, tranilated from the Norfe to the Gaelic language ; and, from the latter, trans- ferred into Englifli. The verfe took little more time to the writer than the profe ; and even he himfelf is doubtful, (if he has fucceeded in ei- ther) which of them is the moll literal verfion. FRAGMENT of a NORTHERN TALE, Where Harold, with golden hair, fpread o'er Lochlin'^ his high commands : where, with juilice, he ruled the tribes, who funk, fubdued, beneath * The Gaelic name of ScanJinavia, cr Scnr/Jiiihi. iv PREFACE. beneath his fword ; abrupt rifes Gormalf in fnow ! The tempefls roll dark on his fides, but calm, above, his vail forehead appears. White- ilTuing from the fkirt of his florms, the troubled torrents pour down his fides. Joining, as they roar along, they bear the Torno, in foam, to the main. Grey on the bank and far from men, half- covered by ancient pines, from the wind, a lone- Iv pile exalts its head, long-fhaken by the florms of the north. To this fled Sigurd, fierce in fight, from Harold the leader of armies, when fate had brightened his fpear with renown ; when he conquered in that rude field, where Lulan's warriors fell in blood, or rofe, in terror, on the waves of the main. Darkly fat the grey- haired chief; yet Ibrrow dwelt not in his foul. But when the warrior thought on the paft, his proud heart heaved again his fide : forth-flew his fword from its place ; he wounded Harold in all the winds. One daughter, and only one, but bright in form and mild of foul, the lafl beam of the fet- ting line, remained to Sigurd of all his race. His ion, in Lulan's battle llain, beheld not his father's flight from his foes. Nor finifhed feem- ed the ancient line ! The fplendid beauty of bright-eyed Fithon, covered fhiU the fallen king with renown. Her arm was white like Gormal's fnow ; her bofom whiter than the foam of the main, when roll the waves beneath the wrath of the winds. Like two flars were her radiant eyes, + The mountain of Sevo. PREFACE. V eyes ; like two ftars that rife on the deep, when dark tumult embroils the night. Pleafant are their beams aloft, as flately they afcend the fl<.ies. Nor Odin forgot, in aught, the maid. Her form fcarce equalled her lofty mind. Awe moved around her flately fteps. Heroes loved — but fhrunk away in their fears. Yet, midil the pride of all her charms, her heart was foft, and her foul was kind. She faw the mournful with tearful eyes. Tranfient darknefs arofe in her bread. Her joy was in the chace. Each morning, when doubtful light wandered dimly on Lulan's waves, flie roufed the refounding woods, to Gormal's head of fnow. Nor moved the maid alone, &c. The fame vcrfified. Where fai'r-hair'd Harold, o'er Scandinia reign'd And held, with juftice, what his valour gain'd, Sevo, in fnow, his rugged fore-head rears And, o'er the warfare of his ftorms, appears Abrupt and vaft. — White-wandering down his fide A thoufand torrents, gleaming as they glide, Unite below ; and pouring through the plain Hurry the troubled Torno to the main. Grey, on the bank, remote from human kind, By aged pines, half-fhelter'd from the wind, A homely manfion rofe, of antique form, For ages batter'd by the polar florm. To this fierce Sigurd fled, from Norway's lord, When fortune fettled on the warrior's fword. In that rude field, where Suecia's chiefs were flain^ Or forced to wander o'er the Bothnic main. Dark was his life, yet undifturb'd with woes, But when the memory of defeat arofe, eyes vi PREFACE. His proud heart ftruck his fide; he grafpt the fpear And wounded Harold in the vacant air. One daughter only, but of form divine, The laft fair beam of the departing line. Remained of Sigurd's race. His warlike ion Fell in the iliock, which overturn'd the throne. Nor defoiate the houfe ! Fionia's charms Suftain'd the glory, which they loft in arms. White was her arm, as Sevo's lofty fnow, Her bofom fairer, than the waves below, When heaving to the winds. Her radiant Like two bright ftars exulting as they rife. O'er the dark tumult of a ftormy night. And gladd'ning heav'n, with their majeftic light. In nought is Odin to the maid unkind ; Ker form I'carce equals her exalted mind, Awe leads her facred fteps where'er they move, And mankind worlliip, where they dare not love. But, mix'd Avith foftnefs, was the virgin's pride, Her heart and feelings, which her eyes deny'd. Her bright tears llarted at another's woes. While tranfient darknefs on her foul arofe. The chace fhe lov'd; when morn, with doubtful beam Came dimly wandermg o'er the Bothnic ftream, On Sevo's founding fides, fhe bent the bow, And rouz'd his forefts to his head of fnow. Nor mov'd the maid alone ; &c. One of the chief improvements in this edi- tion, is the care taken, in arranging the poems in the order of time ; fo as to form a kind of regular hiftory of the age to which they re- late. The writer has now refigned them for ever to their fate. That they have been well received by the public, appears from an exten- hve fale ; that they fhall continue to be well received, he may venture to prophefy, without the PREFACE. vii the gift of that infpiration, to which poets lay claim. Through the medium of verfion upon verfion, they retain, in foreign languages, their native chara6ler of limplicity and energy. Ge- nuine poetry, like gold, lofes little, when pro- perly transfufed ; but when a compofition can- not bear the teft of a literal verfion, it is a coun- terfeit, which ought not to pafs current. The operation muft, however, be performed with fkilful hands. A tranflator, who cannot equal his original, is incapable of expreffing its beau- ties. London, Aug. 15, 1773- CONTENTS. C_/ATH-LODA, Part Firft, .Page 9 Fin gal, Book VI. .. .Page 197 Part Second,. .17 Lathmon, 207 Part Third, 22 Dar-thula, 219 Com ALA, 27 Death ofCuTHULLiN,...233 Carric-thura, 35 Battle of Lora, 243 Carthon, 49 Temor A, Book I. 253 OiNA-MORUL, 63 Book II 27 I COLNA-DONA, 69 Book III. 283 OiTHONA, 75 Book IV 295 Croma, 83 Book V. 307 Calthon andCoLMAL,. 91 Book VI 317 The War of Caros, 99 Book VII 327 CATHLiNof Clutha,. 107 Book VIIT. 339 SuL-M ALLA of LuMON, .II4 CoNLATH and CuTHONA,.35I War of Inms-thona,,....i23 Berrathon, 357 The Songs ofSELMA, 131 ADissertation concerning Fi NG A L, Book I. 141 the^RA of Ossi an, . . . .371 Book II 157 ADissertation concerning Book III 167 the Poems of Ossian,...385 Book IV. 177 A critical Dissertation' on Book V 187 the Poemi of Ossian,...4I5 r H - L A POEM, 'f N THREE P A R T S. B ARGUMENT. FINGAL, when very young, making a voyage to the Orkney iflands, was driver!, by ftrefs of weather, into a bay of Scandinavia, near the refidence of Starno, king of Lochlin. Starno invites Fingal to a feaft. Fingal, doubting the faith of the king, and mindful of a former breach of hofpitality, refufes to go.— Starno gathers together his tribes : Fingal refolves to defend himfelf. — Night coming on, Duth-maruno propofes to Fingal, to obferve the motions of the enemy. — The king himfelf undertakes the watch. Advancing towards the ene- my, he, .jccidentally, comes to the cave of Turthor, where Starno had confiEed Conban-carglas, the captive daughter of a neighbouring chief. — Her (lory is imperfeft, a part of the original being loft.— Fingal comes to a place of worlhip, where Starno and his fon, Swaran, confulted the fpirit of Loda, concerning the jffue of the war.— The rencounter of Fingal and Swaran. — Duan firft concludes with a defcription of the airy hail of Cruth-loda, fuppol'ed to be the Odin oi Scandinavia, C A T H - L O D A. DUAN* FIRST, TALE of the times of old! Why, thou wanderer unfeen! thou bender of the thiitle of Lora ; v/hy, thou breeze of the valley, had thou left mine ear ? I hear no diftant roar of dreams ! no found of the harp, from the rock ! Come, thou huntrefs of Lutha, Malvina, call back his foul to the bard. I look forward to Lochlin of lakes, to the dark, billowy bay of U-thorno, where Fingai defcends from Ocean, from the roar of winds. Few are the heroes of Morven, in a land unknown i Starno fent a dweller of Loda, to bid Fingai to the feaft ; but the king remembered the pad, and all his rage arofe. " Nor Gormal's moffy towers, nor Starno, diall Fino-al behold. Deaths wander, like fliadows, over his hery foul I Do I forget that beam of light, the white- handed dimghter -I- of kings ? Go, fon of Loda ; his v/ords iHYQ wind to Fingai : wind, that, to and fro, drives the thidle, * The bards dlftinguifhed thofe compofitions, in which the nairaflon is often interrupted, by odes and apoftrophes, by the name of Dudn. Since the extinftion of the order of the bards, it has been a general name for all ancient compofitions in verfe. The abrupt manner in which the ftory of this poem begins, may ren- der it obfcure tofome readers ; it mav not therefore be improper, to give here the triiitiona! preface, which is generally prefixed to it. Two years after he took to w;fe Ros-crana, the daughter of Cormac, kine; of Ireland, Fni^al undertook an expi'dition into Orkney, to viiit his friend Calhulla, king of Inifiore. After (laying a f.-w days at Caric-thura, the refulence of Cathulia, ihe king fet fyil, to return to Scotland ; but, a violent ftorni avifing, his fhips were driven into a bay of Scandinavia, neai Gormal, the feat of Starno, king of Lochlin, his avowed entmy, Starno, upon the appearance of Rrangers on his coaft, fummoned toge- th-rr the neighboring tribes, and advanced, in a hoflile manner, towards the bay of U-thorno, where Fingai had taken flielter. Upon difcovering who the ftran- gers were, and fearing the valour of Fingai, which he had, more than once, ex- perienced before, he refolved to accomplifn by treachery what he was afraid he (hould fail in by open force. He invited, thci^ifore, Fui^al to a feaft, at which he int;-nded to aiTailinate him. The king crudently dechned to go, and Starno betook hnnlelf to arms. The fequcl of the (iovy may be learned from, the poem itfclf. + A:i;andecca, the daughter of Starno, v/hom her father killed, on account of \\tT difcovering to Fingai, a plot laid againft his life. Hsr iioi)' 15 related ai krgCj in the third book of Fingil. 12 C A T H - L O D A ; thiftle, in autumn's dufiiy vale. Duth-maruno*, arm of death ! Cromma-glas, of iron iliields ! Strutlimor, dweller of battle's wing ! Cormar, whofe fliips bound on feas, carelefs as the courfe of a meteor, on dark-rolling clouds ! Arife, around me, children of heroes, in a land unknown! Let each look on his fliield, like Trenmor, the ruler of wars. " Come down, thus Trenmor faid, thou dv/eller between the harps. Thou flialt roll this Itream away, or wafte with me in earth." Around the king they rife in wrath. No words come forth : they feize their Ipears. Each foul is rolled into itfelf. At length the fudden clang is waked, on all their echoing fhields. Each takes his hill, by night ; at inter- vals, they darkly (land. Unequal burfls the hum of fongs, between the roaring wind ! Broad over them rofe the moon ! In his arms, came tall Duth-maruno ; he from Croma of rocks, flern hunter of the boar ! In his dark boat he rofe on waves, when Crumthormoj- awaked its v/oods. In the chace he (hone, among foes : No fear was thine. Duth-maruno ! " Son of daring Comhal, fhall my flieps be forward through night ? From this fhield fhall I view them, over their gleaming tribes.'' Starno, king of lakes, is before me, and Swaran, the foe of ftrangers. Their words are not in vain, by Loda's flone of power.- — Should Duth-maruno not return, his fpoufe is lonely, at home, where meet two roaring flreams, on Crathmo-craulo's plain. Around are hills, with echoing woods ; the ocean is rolling near. My fon looks on fcreaming fea-fowl, a young v^anderer on the field. * Duth-maruno is a name very famous in tradition. Many of liis great aftions are handed down ; but the poenis, which contained the detail of them, are long iincc lofi. He hved, it isfiippofed, in that part of the north of Scotland, which is over againfl Orkney. Dutb-maruno, Ciomma-glas, Strutlimor, and Cormar, are mentioned, as attending Comhal, in his laft battle ajrainfl the tribe of Morni, in a poem, which is ftillprefervcd. It is not the woik of OOian ; tlie phtafeoi&gy be- irays it to be a modern corapolition. It is ibmething; like thofe trivia! compofuions, which the I rifh bards forged, under the name of Olllan, in the fifteenth and fix- teenth centuries. Dulh-m.aruno rio;Bifies, black and [lea dy. Cromma-glas, lending and f war thy ; Strmhmor, roarinf^Jlream ; Corimr, expert at Jee. t Crumthormoth, one of the Orkney or Shetland iflands. The name is not of Gahc original. It v;as fubjeft to its own petty king, who is mentioned in one of OITian's poems. A P O E M. 13 field. Give the head of a boar to Can-dona '^j tell him of his father's joy, when the briftly flrength of I-thorno rolled on his lifted fpear. Tell liirn of my deeds in war ! Tell where his father fell !" " Not forgetful of my fathers," faid Fingal, " I have bounded over the feas. Theirs were the times of dan2:er, in the days of old. Nor fettles darknefs on me, before foes, though youthful in my locks. Chief of Crathmo- craulo, the field of night is mine." FiNGAL rufned, in all his arms, wide-bounding over Turthor's flream, that fent its fuUen roar, by night, ttiro* Gormal's mifly vale. A moon-beam glittered on a rock ; in the midft, ilood a ffately form ; a form with floating locks, like Lochlin's white-bofom'd maids. Unequal are her fleps, and fhort. She throws a broken fong on wind. At times flie toifes her white arms : for grief is dwelling m her foul. " TORCUL- * Cean-daona, head of the people, the foncf Dmh-maiano. He became after- wards famous, in the expeditions of Oflian, after the death of Fingal. The tradi- tional tales concerning him are very numerous, and, from the epithet, in them, be- flowed on him [Candcnn of hoars) it would appear, t'lat he applied himfelf to that kind of hunting, which hisfaiher, in this paragraph, is fo anxious to recommend to him. As I have mcntionid the traditional tales of the Highlands, it may not be improper here, to give fome account of them. After the expulfion of the bait's, from the houfes of the clucfs, they, being an indolrnt race of men, owed all thei- fublillencc to the generoCty of the vulgar, whom they diverted with repeating the com.pofitions ot their predeceffors, and running up the genealogies ot their enter- tainers to the famii)' of their chiefs. As thislulijeft was, however, foon exhauded, they were obliged to have rcconrfe to invention, and form (lories having no foun- dation infaft ; which were fwallowed, with great credulity, by an ignorant multi- tude. By frequent repealing, the fable grew upon their hands, and, as each threw in whatever circumftance he thought conducive to raife the admiration of his hear- ers, the flory became, at laft, fo devoid of all probability, that even the vulgar thcmfelves did not believe it. They, however, liked the tales fo well, that the bards found their advantage in turning profefied lale-makers. They then launched cut into the wildefl regions of ficlion and romance, 1 £rmly believe, there are more (lories of giants, enchanted caftlcs, dwarfs, and palfreys, in the Highlands of Scotland, than in any country of Europe. Thefc tales, it is certain, like oihev romantic compofu ions, liave many things in them unnatural, and, conlequenily, difguftful to true tafte ; but, I know not how it happens, they com.mand attention more than any other fiftions I ever met with. The extreme length of thefe pieces is very furprifiiiff, fome of them requiring many days to repeat them; but fuch hold they take of the memory, that few circumfiances are ever omitted by theft wi)0 have received them onlv from oral tradition : What is fliH more amazing, the very language of the bards is flil! preferved. It is curious to fee, that the defcrip- tiorsof magnilicence, introduced in (hcfe tales, are even fupTior to all tlie pon^p- ou.s oriental fi^lionsof the kind 14 C A T H - L O D A : " ToRCUi,-TORNO,* of aged locks ^'* flie Hiid, " where now are thy fteps, by Lulan ? Thou haft failed, at thine own dark ftrearns, father of Conban- cargla ! But I behold thee, chief of Lulan, fporting by Loda's hall, when the dark-lkirted night is rolled along the Iky. — Thou, feme- times, hidcft the moon, with thy fliield. I have feen her dim, in heaven. Thou kindleft thy hair into meteors, and fcileft along the night. Why am I forgot in my cave, king of fhaggy boars ? Look, from the hall of Loda, on thy lonely daughter." *' Who art thou," faid Fingal, ■' voice of night ?" She, trembling, turned away. " Who art thou, in thy darknefs ?" She flirunk into the cave. The king ioofed the thong from her hands. He afked about her fathers. " ToRCUL-TORNO," file faid, " once dwelt at Lulan's foamy flream : he dwelt — but, now, in Loda's hall, he ihakes the founding fliell. He met Starno of Lochlin, in •V7ar ; long fought the dark-eyed kings. My father fell, in his blood, blue-fhielded Torcul-torno ! By a rock, at Lu- lan's llream, I had pierced the bounding roe. My white tiand gathered my hair, from off" the rufliing winds. I .ficard a noife. Mine eyes were up. My fott breaft rofe on liigh. My ftep was forward, at Lulan to meet thee, Tor- cul-torno ! It was Starno, dreadful king ! His red eyes rolled * Torcul-torno, according to tradition, was king of Crathlun, a diflrift in Swe- &tt. The rivsr Lulan ran near the refidence of Torcul-torno. Thereis a river 30 Sweden, ftill called Lula, which is prob^ably the fame with Lulan. The war fcciween Starno and Torcul-torno, which terminated in the death of the latter, fcad! Its rife at a hunting party, Starno being invited, in a friendly manner, by Torcul-torno, both kings, with their followers, went to the mountains of Stivamore to hunt. A boar ruflicd from the wood before the kings, and Torcul-torno killed it. Starno thought this bel.iaviour a br?ach upon the privilege of ^ucfts, who were always /lerwured, as traditio-n expiefies it, zvitk the dangler of the chace. A quarrel arolCj the kings came to battle with all their attendants, and the party of Torcul- toreo were totally defeated, and he hlmfelf {lain. Starno purfued his viftory, laid ■w-aftc the diftritt of Crathlun, and, coming to the refidence of Torcul-torno, car- T3,-r| off, by force, Conban-carglas, the beautiful daughter of his enemy. Her he -anh'icd in a cave, near the palace of Gormal, wheie, on accouwt of her cruel TTstnicnt, fhe .became diflrafted. 'I he paragraph, juftnow before us. is the fong of Conban-carglas, at the time fhi't vras difcovered by Fingal. It is in Lyric meafure, and fet to mufic, which is ^•-ski and fimple, and fo inimitably fuited t© the htuation of the unhappy lady, thaf. fi:w can hear It without tears. A P O E M, 15 tolled on me In love. Dark waved his fbaggy brov.% above his fathered fmile. Where is my father, laid I ; he that was mighty in war ? Thou art left alone among foes, O daui^hter of Torcul-torno ! He took my hand. He raifed the fail. In this cave he placed me dark. At times, he oomes, a gathered mift. He lifts, before me, my father's fhield. But often paffes a beam * of youth, far diftant from my cave. The fon of Starno moves, in my fight. He dwells lonely in my foul." " Maid of Lulan," faid Fingal, " white-handed daugh- ter of grief! a cloud, marked v/ith flreaks of fire, is rolled along thy foul. Look not to that dark-robed moon ; look not to thofe meteors of heaven. My gleaming fteel is around thee, the terror of thy foes ! It is not the Iteel of the feeble, nor of the dark in foul ! The maids are not Ihut in our f caves of ftreams. They tofs not their white arms alone.. They bend, fair within their locks, above the harps of Selma. Their voice is not in the dcfart wild. We melt along the pleafmg found 1" Fingal, again, advanced his Heps, wide through the bofom of night, to where the trees of Loda fhook amid fqually winds. Three ftones, with heads of mofs, are there; a ftream, with foaming courfe: and dreadful, rolled around them, is the dark-red cloud of Loda. High from its top looked forward a ghofl, half-formed of the lliadowy fmoke. He poured his voice at times, amidft the roaring llream. Near, bending beneath a blafted tree, two heroes received his words : Swaran of lakes, and Starno, foe of flrangers. On their dun fnields, they darkly leaned: their fpears are forward through night. Shrill founds the blafl of darknefs in Starno's floating beard. Thly heard the tread of Fingal. The warriors rofe in arms. * Bv the heam of youth, it afterwards appears, that Conbao-carglas means Swaran, tie fon of Starno, with whom, during her confinement, fhe had tallen in love. t From this contiaft, which Fingal draws, betvv'een his own nation, and the inhabit ints of Scandinavia, we may learn, that the former were much lefs barbarous than the latter. This diflintlion is fo much obferved throughout the poems of Of- fian, that there can be no doubt, that he followed the real manners of both nation'? in his own time. At the clofe of the fpeech of Fingal, there is a great part of the original loft. i6 CATH-LODA: arms. " Swaran, lay that wanderer low," faid Starno, im his pride. " Take the iliieid of thy father. It is a rock in war.'* — Swaran threw his gleaming fpear. It flood fixed in Loda's tree. Then came the foes forward, with fwords. They mixed their rattling fteel. Through the thongs of Swaran's fliield rufhed the blade * of Luno. The fhield fell rolling on earth. Cleft, the helmet f fell down. Fingal ftopt the lifted Heel. Wrathful flood Swaran, unarmed. He rolled his filent eyes ; he threw his fword on earth. Then, flowly ftaiking over the llream, he whiflled as he went. Nor unfeen of his father is Swaran. Starno turns away in v/rath. His fhaggy brows wave dark, above his gather- ed rage. He ftrikes Loda's tree, with his fpear. He raifes the hum of fongs. They come to the hofl of Lochlin, each in his own dark path j like two foam-covered flreams, from two rainy vales ! To Torthur's plain Fingal returned. Fair rofe the beam, of the eafl. It fhone on the fpoils of Lochlin, in the hand of the king. From her cave came forth, in her beauty, the daughter of Torcul-torno. She gathered her hair from wind. She wildly raifed her fong. The fong of Lulan of flieils, where once her father dwelt. She faw Starno's bloody fhield. Giadnefs rofe, a light, on her face. She faw the cleft helmet of Swaran §. She fhrunk, darkened, from Fingal. — " Art thou fallen, by thy hundred ftreams, O love of the mournful maid." U-THORNO, that rifeft in waters ! on whofe fide are the meteors of night ! I behold the dark moon defcending, behind thy refounding woods. On thy top dwells the mifcy Loda : the houfe of the fpirits of men ! In the end of his cloudy hail, bends forward Cruth-loda of fwords. His * The fword of Fingal, fo called from its maker, Luno of Lochlin. t The hehnet of Swaran, The behaviour of Fingal is always confiilent with that •enerofity of fpint which belongs io a hero. He takes no advantage of a foe dil- armed. ^ Conban-carglas, from feeing the helmet of Swaran bloody in the hands of Fingal, conjeftured that that hero was killed. A part of the original is loft. It appears, however, from the fequel of the poem, that the daughter of Torcul-torno did not long furvive herfurprize, occafioned by the fuppofed death of her lover. The defcriptionof the airy hall of Loda (which is fuppofed to be the fame with that of Odin, the deity of Scandinavia) is more pi6lurefque and defcriptive, than any in the Edda, or • ther works of the northern Scolders. A P O E M. 17 H*? form is dimly feen, amid his wavy mifl. His ri hr- hand is on his fhield. In his left is the half-viewieis fhell. The roof of his dreadful hall is marked, with nightly fires ! The race of Cruth-loda advance, a ridge of formlels fhades. He reaches the founding lliell, to thofe v/ho flione in vi^ar. But, between him and the feeble, his fhield rifes, a darkened orb. He is a fetting meteor to the weak in arms. Bright, as a rainbov/ on ftr earns, came Lulan's white-bofomed maid. CATH-LODA. D U A N SECOND, ARGUMENT. FINGAL returning, with day, devolves the command on Duth-maruno, who engages the enemy, aud drives them over the ftream of Tarthor. Having re- called his people, he congratulates Duth-maruno en his fuccffs, but difcovers, that that hero had been mortally wounded in the action. — Duth-maruno dies. Ullin, the bard, in honour of the dead, introduces the epifode of Colgorm and Strina-dona, which concludes this dudn. WHERE art thou, fon of the king," faid dark- haired Duth-maruno? " Where halt thou failed, young beam of Selma ? He returns not, from the bofoni of night ! Morning is fpread on U-thorno. In his mift is I'he fun, on his hill. Warriors, lift the fiiieids, in my prefence. He muft not fall, like a fire from heaven, whofe place is not marked on the ground. He comes, like an. eagle, from the Ikirt of his fqually wind ! In his hand are the fpoils of foes. King of Selma, our fouls were fad! " Near us are the foes, Duth-maruno. They come forward, like waves in miif, when their foamy tops are feen, at times, above the low-failing vapour. The traveller C flirinks ^8 CATH-LODA: flirinks on his journey/ ; he knows not ^vhither to ily. No trembling travellers are we 1 Sons of heroes, call forth the fteel. Shall the fword of Fingal arife, or fliall a warrior lead ?" * The deeds of old, faid Duth-maruno, are like paths to our eyes, O Fingal, Broad-fhielded Trenmor, is ftill feen, amidfl his own dim years. Nor feeble was the foul of the king. There, no dark deed wandered in fecret. From their hundred dreams came the tribes, to graify Colglancrona. Their chiefs v/ere before them. Each ilrove to lead the war. Their fwords were often half-unflieathed. Red rolled their eyes of rage. Separate they flood, and hummed their furly fongs. " Why fnould they yield to each other ? their fathers were equal in war.'* Trenmor was there, with his people, {lately in youthful locks. He faw the advancing foe. The grief of his foul arofe. He bade the chiefs to lead, by turns: they led, but they v/ere rolled away. From his own moily hill, blue-fliielded Trenmor came down. He led wide-ikirted battle, and the ftrangers failed. Around him the dark-browed warriors came: they flruck the ftield of joy. Like a pleafant gale, the words of power ruflied forth from Selma of kings. But the chiefs led, by turns, in war, till mighty danger rofe: then was the hour of the king to conquer in the held." " Not * In this fliort epifocle we .have a very probable account given us, of the origin of monarchy in Caledonia. The Cad or Gauls who poikffed the countries to the north of the Firth of Edinburgh, were, originally, a number of di'hnti tribes, or clans, each fubjeft to its own chief, who was free and independent of any othci- power. When the Romans invaded them, the common danger might, perhaps, have induced thofc rcgdi to join together, but, as they were unwilling to yield to the cor.nnand of one of their own number, their battles were iJl-condu6kd, and, confequenttv, unfuccefbful. Trenmor was the firQ who repvefented to the chiefs, the bad confequcnces of carrying on iheir wars in this irregular manner, and advifed, that thev themfelvcs fliouid alternately lead in battle. They did fo, but they were unfuccefsful. When it came to Trenmoi's turn, he totally defeated the enemy, by his fi'perior valour and conduct, which gainea him fuch an intereft among the tribes, that he, ana his family after him, were regarded as kings; or, to ufe the poet's expreihon, the wards of power rijjhtd forth from Selma of kings. The regal authority, however, except in time of war, was but inconfiderable; for ever)' chief, within his own diflrift, Avas abfolute and independent. From the fcene of the bat- tle in this epifyde, (which was in the valley of Crona, a lutle to the north of Agiicola's wall) 1 (hould fuppofe, that the enemies of the Caledonians were the Romans, or provincial Britons. A P O E M. 19 " Not unknown," faid Crorama-glas * of fliields, " are the deeds ot our fathers. But who fhallnow lead the war, before the race of kings ? Mid fettles on thefe four dark hills : within it let each warrior flrike his diield. Spirits may defcend in darknefs, and mark us for the war." They went, each to his hill of mift. Bards marked the founds of the flilelds. Loudefl-rung thy bofs, Duth- .maruno. Thou mud lead in war ! Like the murmur of waters, the race of U-thorno came down. Starno led the battle, and Swaran of ftormy ifles. They looked forward from iron fliields, like Cruth-loda fiery-eyed, when he looks from behind the darkened moon, and ftrews his figns on night. The foes met by Turthor's flream. They heaved like ridgy waves. Their echoing ilrokes are mixed. Shadowy death flies over the hofts. They were clouds of hail, with fqnally winds in their fis.irts. Their fhowers are roarino; tofjether. Below them fweils o o the dark-rolling deep. StPvIfe of gloomy U-thorno, v/hy fnould I mark thy wounds ! Thou art with the years that are gone ! thou faded on my foul ! Starno brought forward his fkirt of war, and Swaran his own dark wing. Nor a harmlefs fire is Duth-raaruno's fword. Lochlin is roiled over her dreams. The wrathful kings are lofl in thought. They roll their filent eyes, over the flight of their land. The horn of Fingal was heard ; the * la tradition, this Cromma-glas ma] ^ Bards. Roll, ftreamy Carun, roll in joy, the fons of battle fled! The fteed is not feen on our fields; the wings* of their pride fpread in other lands. The fun will now rife in peace, and the Ihadows defcend in joy ; the voice of the chace be heard ; the ihields hang in the hall. Our delight will be in the war of the ocean, our hands fhall grow red in. the blood of Lochlin. Roll, ftreamy Carun, roll in joy, the fons of battle fled ! Melilcoma. Descend, ye light mifts from high ! Ye moon-beams, lift her foul. Pale lies the maid at the rock ! Com.da is no more ! -n tiNGAL. Is the daughter of Sarno dead; the white-bofomed maid of my love ? Meet me, Comala, on my heaths, when I fit alone at the ftreams of my hills ! HiDALLAN. Ceased the voice of the huntrefs of Ardven! Why did I trouble the foul of the maid? When ftiall I fee thee, with joy, in the chace of the dark-brown hinds ? FiNGAL. Youth of the gloomy brow! no more fhalt thou feaft in my halls. Thou ihalt not purfue my chace, my foes ftiall not fall by thy fword |. Lead me to the place of her reft that I may behold her beauty. Pale flie lies at the rock, the cold winds lift her hair. Her bow-ftring founds in the blaft, her arrow was broken in her fall. Raife the praife E of * Perhaps the poet alludes to the Roman eagle. t The fet^uel of the flory of Hidallan is introduced in another poem. 34 COMAL A. of the daughter of Sarno ! give her name to the winds of ^^^^^^' Bards. See! meteors gleam around the maid! See, moon-beams lift her foul ! Around her, from their clouds, bend the awful faces of her fathers ; Sarno f of the gloomy brow ! the red-rolling eyes of Fidallan ! When Ihall thy white hand arife ? When fhall thy voice be heard on our rocks ? The maids fliall feek thee on the heath, but they fhall not find thee. Thou fhalt come, at times, to their dreams, to fettle peace in their foul. Thy voice fhall remain in their ears, they fhall think with joy on the dreams of their reft. Me- teors gleam around the maid, and moon-beams lift her foul! + Sarno, the father of Comala, died foon after the flight of his daughter. Fi- dallan was thefirft king that reigned inlniftore. C A R R I C- CARRIC-THU POEM. ARGUMENT. FINGAL, returning from an expedition which he had made into the Roman pro- vince, refolved to vifit CathuUa king of Iniftore, and brother to Comala, whofe flory is related at large, in the preceding dramatic poem. Upon his coming in fight of Carric-thura, the palace of Cathulla, he obferved a flame on its top, which, in thofe days, was a fignal of diflrcfs. The wind drove them into a bay, at fome diftance from Carric-thura, and he was obliged to pafs the night on the Jhore. Next day he attacked the army of Frothal king of Sora, who had befieged Cathulla in his palace of Carric-thura,- and took Frothal hinifelf prifoner, after he had engaged him in fingle combat. The deliverance of Carric-thura is the fubjctl of the poem, but feveral other epifodes are interwoven with it. It ap- pears from tradition, that this poem was addreffed to a Culdee, or one of the £r(l Chiiftian mifhonaries, and that the ftory of the Spirit of Loda, fuppofed to be the ancient Odin of Scandinavia, was introduced by OflTian in oppofition to the Culdee's doftrine. Be this as it will, it lets us into Offian'i notions of a fuperior being; and fhews that he was not addifled to the fuperftition whiclj prevailed all the world over, before the introdu£lion of Chriftianity. CARRIC-THURA: A POEM. HAST * thou left thy blue courfe In heaven, golden- haired fon of the iky! The weft has opened its gates; the bed of thy repofe is there. The waves come to behold thy beauty. They lift their trembling heads. They fee thee lovely in thy fleep ; they flirink away with fear. Reft in thy Ihadowy cave, O fun ! let thy return be in joy. But let a thoufand lights arife to the found of the harps of Selma : let the beam fpread in the hall, the king of iliells is returned ! The ftrife of Crona is paft -f, like founds that are no more. Raife the fong, O bards, the king is returned, with his fame! Such were the words of Ullin, v/hen Finp-al returned from war: when he returned in the fair blufliing of youth, with all his heavy locks. His blue arms were on the hero; like a light cloud on the fun, when he moves in his robes of mift, an,d fliews but half his beams. His heroes follow the king : the feaft of ftiells is fpread. Fingal turns to his bards, and bids the fong to raife. Voices of echoing Cona! he faid, O bards of other times ! Ye, on whofe fouls the blue hofts of our fathers rifel ftrike the harp in my hall; and let me hear the fong. Pleafant is the joy of grief! it is like the fliower of fpring,' when it foftens the branch of the oak, and the young leaf rears its green head. Sing on, O bards, to-morrow we' lift the fail. My blue courfe is through the ocean, to Carric- * The fong of Ullin, with which the poem opens, is in a lyric meafure. It \vas ufual with Fingal, when he returned from his expeditions, to fend his bards finging before him. This fpecies of triumph is called, by Offian, the Jot? g of vic- tory. + Ollian has celebrated thejirife of Crona, in a particular poem. This poem is fonnetled with it, but it was impoffible for the tranflator to procure that part whick relates to Crona with any degree of purity. 38 CARRIC-T HUR A Carrlc-thura's wails ; the mofly walls of Sarno, where Co- maia dv/elt. There the noble Cathulla, fpreads the feaft of fliells. The boars of his woods are many ; the found of the chace fhall arife ! C RON NAN *, fon of the king ! fald Ullm, Minona, graceful at the harp! raife the tale of Shilric, to pleafe the king of Morven. Let Vinvela come in her beauty, like the fliowery bow, when it fiiews its lovely head on the lake, and the fetting fun is bright. She comes, O Fingal ! her voice is foft but fad. Vinvela. My love is a fon of the hill. He purfues the flying deer. His grey dogs are panting around him ; his bow-firing founds in the wind. Doft thou reft by the fount of the rock, or by the noife of the mountain-ftream ? The ruflies are nodding to the wind, the mift flies over the hill. I will approach my love unfeen ; I will behold him from the rock. Lovely I faw thee firft by the aged oak of Branno-j-; thou wert returning tall from the chace j the faireft among thy friends. c- •^ bHILRIC. What voice is that I hear? that voice like the fummer- wind ! I fit not by the nodding rufiies ; I hear not the fount of the rock. Afar, Vinvela ||, afar, I go to the wars of Fingal. My dogs attend me no more. No more I tread the hill. No more from on high I fee thee, fair-moving by the ftream of the plain ; bright as the bow of heaven j as the moon on the weftern wave. Vinvela. Then thou art gone, O Shilric! I am alone on the hill! The deer are feen on the brow j void of fear they graze along. * One flionld think that the parts of Shilric and Vinvela were reprefented by Cronrian and Minona, whofe very names denote that they were fingers, who per- formed in public. Cronnan fignifies a mournful found, Mmona, or l>j{in-6rm,foft civ. All the dramatic poems of Ofiian appear to have been prefented before Fin- c;al npon folernn occalions. + Bran, or Branno, {i^m{\t% zvioimtainflrcam: it is here fome river known by that name, in the days of Offian. There are feveral fmall rivers in the north of Scotland filll retaining the nanle of Bran; in particular one which falls into the Tav at Dunkeld. I Bhin-bheul, a woman with a mdcdions voice, Bh in the Galic language has the fame found with the v in Englifh, A POEM. 39 along. No more they dread the wind ; no more the nifl- ling tree. The hunter is far removed ; he is in the field of graves. Strangers ! fons of the waves ! fpare my lovely ^hilncJ Shilric. If fall I miift in the field, raife high my grave, Vinvela. Grey ftones and heaped-up earth, fhall mark me to future times. When the hunter fhall fit by the mound, and pro-r duce his food at noon, " Some warrior refts here," he v/ill fay; and my fame fliall live in his praife. Remember me, Vinvela, when low on earth I lie ! Vinvela. Yes ! I will remember thee; alas ! my Shilric ^vill fail! What ftiall I do, my love ! when thou art for ever gone .? Through thefe hills I will go at noon : I will go through the filent heath. There I will fee the place of thy reft, re- turning from the chace. Alas ! my Shirlic will fall ; but I will remember Shilric. And I remember the chief, faid the king of woody Morven ; he confumed the battle in his rage. But now my eyes behold him not. I met him, one day, on the hill ; his cheek was pale ; his brow was dark. The figh was frequent in his breaft : his fteps were towards the defart. But now he is not in the crou^d of my chiefs, when the founds of my {liields arife. Dwells he in the narrow houfe*, the chief of high Carmora -f ? Cronnan ! faid Ullin of other times, raife the fong of Shilric ; when he returned to his hills, and Vinvela was no more. He leaned on her grey moify ftone ; he thought Vinvela lived. He faw her fair moving || on the plain ; but the bright form lafted not : the fun-beam fled from the field, and fhe was feen no mere. Hear the fong of Shilric, it is foft but fad ! I SIT by the mofly fountain ; on the top of the hill of winds. One tree is ruftling above me. Dark waves roll over the heath. The lake is troubled below. The deer defcend * The grave. + Carn^mor, /ligk rocky hi!. \\ The diftinclion which the ancient Scots made: between good and h?.d fpirits, was, that the former appeared fometimes, in the day-time, in lonely unfre(]uente«< places, but the latter never but by night, and in a dil'mal gloomy I'cene. 40 CARRIC-THURA: defcend from the hill. No hunter at a diftance Is feen. It is mid-day: but all is filent. Sad are my thoughts alone* Didft thou but appear, O my love, a wanderer on the heath ! thy hair floating on the wind behind thee ; thy bofom heaving on the fight ; thine eyes full of tears for thy friends, whom the mill of the hill had concealed! Thee I v/ould comfort, my love, and bring thee to thy father's houfe ! But is it fhe that there appears, like a beam of light on the heath ? Bright as the moon in autumn, as the fun in a fuinmer-ilorm, comefl thou, O maid, over rocks, over mountains to me ? She fpeaks : but how weak her voice i like the breeze in the reeds of the lake. " Return EST thou faie from the war ? Where are thy friends, my love? I heard of thy death on the hill; I heard and mourned thee, Shilric !'* Yes, my fair, I return; but I alone of my race. Thou flialt fee them no more : their graves I raifed on the plain. But why art thou on the defart hill ? Why on the heath alone ? " Alone I am, O Shilric ! alone in the winter-houfe. With grief for thee 1 fell. Shilric, I am pale in the tomb." She fleets, flie fails away, as mid before the wind! and, wilt thou not ftay, Vinvela ? Stay and behold my tears ! Fair thou appeared, Vinvela ! fair thou wafl:, when alive ! By the mofly fountain I will fit ; on the top of the hill of winds. When mid-day is filent around, O talk with me, Vinvela! come on the light-winged gale! on the breeze of the defart, come! Let me hear thy voice, as thou paifefl:, v/hen mid-day is filent around ! Such was the fong of Cronnan, on the night of Selma*s joy. But morning rofe in the eafl:; the blue waters rolled in light. Fingal bade his fails to rife ; the winds came rufl:ling from their hills, Iniftore rofe to fight, and Carric- thura's moiTy towers ! But the fign of diftrefs was on their top : the warning flame edged v/ith fmoke. The king £»f Morven fliruck his bread : he aflumed, at once, his fpear. His darkened brow bends forward to the coalt : he looks back to the lagging winds. His hair is difordere(i on his back. The filence of the king is terrible ! Night A P O E M. 41 Night came down on the fea ; Rotha's bay received the Ihip. A rock bends along the coail with all its echoing wood. On the top is the circle * of Loda, the mofly ftonc of power ! A narrow plain fpreads beneath, covered with grafs and aged trees, which the midnight winds, in their wrath, had torn from the fhaggy rock. The blue courfe of a ftream is there ! the lonely blafl of ocean pm-fues the thiftle's beard. The flame of three oaks arofe : the feaft is fpread around : but the foul of the king is fad, for Car- ric-thura's chief diilreft. The wan, cold moon rofe, in the eaft. Sleep defcended on the youths ! Their blue helmets glitter to the beam ; the fading fire decays. But fieep did not reft on the king: he rofe in the midft of his arms, and llowly afcended the hill to behold ihe flame of Sarno's tov/ey. The flame was dim and diftant ; the moon hid her red face in the eaft. A blaft came from the mountain ; on its wings was the fpirit of Loda. He came to his place in his terrors f, and fliook his dufl^y fpear. His eyes appear like flames in his dark face ; his voice is like difl:ant thunder. Fingal advanced his fpear in night, and raifed his voic*^ on high. Son of night, retire: call thy winds and fly! Why doft thou come to my prefence, with thy fliadowy arms ? Do I fear thy gloomy form, fpirit of difmal Loda ? Weak is thy fliield of clouds : feeble is that meteor, thy fword. The blaft rolls them together ; and thou thyfelf art loft. Fly from my prefence, fon of night ! call thy winds and fly ! Dost thou force me frorn my place, replied the hollow voice ? The people bend before me. I turn the battle in the field of the brave. I look on the nations and they va- nifli: my noftrils pour the blaft of death. I come abroad on the winds : the tempefts are before my face. But my dwelling is calm, above the clouds ; the fields of my reft are pleafant. Dwell in thy pleafant fields, faid the king: Let Com- hal's fon be forgot. Do my fteps afcend, from my hills, F into * The circle of Loda is fuppofed to be a place of worfhip among the Scandinavi- ans, as the fpirit of Loda is thought to be the fame with their god Odin. + He is defcribsd, in a fmiile, in the poem concerning the death of Cuchullin, 42 C A R R I C - T H U R A : into thy peaceful plains ? Do I meet thee, with a fpear^ on thy cloud, fpirit of difmal Loda ? Why then dofl thou frown on me ? why fliake thine airy fpear ? Thou frown- eft in vain : I never fled from the mighty in war. And Ihali the fons of the wind frighten the king of Morven ? No : he knows the weaknefs of their arms ! Fly to thy land, replied the form: receive the wind and fly ! The blafts are in the hollow of my hand: the courfe of the ftorm is mine. The king of Sora is my fon, he bends at the ftone of my power. His battle is around Carric-thura ; and he will prevail ! Fly to thy land, fon of Comhal, or feel my flaming wrath ! He lifted high his fliadov/y fpear! He bent forward his dreadful height. Fingal, advancing, drew his fword; the blade of dark-brown Luno *. The gleaming path of the fleel winds thro' the gloomy ghoft. The form fell fliape- lefs into air, like a column of fmoke, which the ftaff'of the boy difturbs, as it rifes from the half-extinguiflied furnace^ The fpirit of Loda flirieked, as, rolled into himfelf, he rofe on the wind. Iniftore fhook at the found. The waves heard it on the deep. They ftopped, in their courfe, with fear : the friends of Fingal ftarted, at once ; and took their heavy fpears. They miffed the king : they rofe in rage ;. all their arms refound ! The moon came forth in the eaft. Fingal returned in the gleam of his arms. The joy of his youth was great ; their fouls fettled, as a fea from a ftorm. Ullin raifed the fong of gladnefs. The hills of Iniftore rejoiced. The flame of the oak arofe ; and the tales of heroes are told. But Frothal, Sora's wrathful king, fits in fadnefs be- neath a tree. The hoft fpreads around Carric-thura. He looks towards the walls with rage. He longs for the blood of Cathuila, who, once, overcame him in war. When Annir reigned f in Sora, the father of fea -borne Frothal, a ftorm arofe on the fea, and carried Frothal to Iniftore. Three days he feafted in Sarno*s halls, and faw the flow- rolling eyes of Comala. He loved her, in the flame of youth, * The famous fword of Fingal, made by Lun, or Luno, a fmith of Lochlin. t Annir was alfo the father of Erragon, who was king after the death of his brother Frothal. The dcaih of Erragon is the fubjccl cf the battle of Lora, a poem in this colkftion. A P O E M. 43 youth, and rufned to feize the white-armed maid. Cathulla met the chief. The gloomy battle rofe. Frothal was bound in the hall ; three days he pined alone. On the fourth, Sarno fent him to his lliip, and he returned to his land. But wrath darkened in his foul againft the noble Cathulla. When Annir's Hone * of fame arofe, Frothal came in his flrength. The battle burned round Carric-thura, and Sarno's moify walls. Morning rofe on Iniftore. Frothal ftruck his dark- brown fhield. His chiefs darted at the found ; they flood, but their eyes were turned to the fea. They faw Fingal coming in his flrength ; and firft the noble Thubar fpoke. " Who comes like the ftag of the defart, with all his herd behind him ? Frothal, it is a foe ! I fee his forward fpear. Perhaps it is the king of Morven, Fingal the firfl of men. His deeds are well known in Lochlin ; the blood of his foes is in Starno's halls. Shall I afk the peace | of kings? His fword is the bolt of heaven !'* Son of the feeble hand, faid Frothal, (hall my days be- gin in a cloud ? Sfeall I yield before I have conquered, chief of dreamy Tora ? The people v/ould fay in Sora, Frothal flew forth like a meteor ; but a darknefs has met him, and his fame is no more. No, Thubar ; I will never yield ; my fame fhall furround me like light. No : I will never yield, chief of dreamy Tora ! He went forth with the dream of his people, but they met a rock : Fingal dood unmoved : broken, they rolled back from his fide. Nor did they fafely fly ; the fpear of the king purfued their deps. The field is covered with heroes. A rifmg hill preferved the foe. Frothal faw their flight. The rage of his bofom rofe. He bent his eyes to the ground, and called the noble Thu- bar. " Thubar ! my people are fled. My flame has ceafed to arife. I will fight the king -, I feel my burning foul ! Send a bard to demand the combat. Speak not againft Frothal's w^ords ! — But, Thubar! I love a maid; fhe dwells by Thano's dream, the white-bofomed daughter of Her- man, * That IS, after the death of Annir. To ere£l the ftone of one's fame, was, in other words, to fay that the perfon was dead, + Honourable terms of peace. 44 C ARRIC-THUR A: man, Utha with foft-roUing eyes. She feared the low-laid Comala ; her fecret fighs rofe, when I fpread the fail. Tell to Utha of harps, that my foul delighted in her !'* Such were his words, refolved to fight. The foft figh of Utha was near ! She had followed her hero, in the ar- ruour of a man. She rolled her eye on the youth, in fe- cret. from beneath her ileel. She faw the bard as he went ; the foear fell thrice from her hand ! Her loofe hair flew on the wind. Her white bread rofe, with fighs. She raifed her eyes to the king. She would fpeak,but thrice fhe failed. FiNGAL heard the words of the bard ; he came in the fcrength of his fteel. They mixed their dreadful fpears : they raifed the gleam of their arms. But the fword of Fin- gal defcended and cut Frothal's fhield in tv/ain. His fair fide is expofed ; half-bent, he forefees his death. Darknefs gathered on Utha's foul. The tear rolled down her cheek. She ruflied to cover the chief with her fliield ; but a fallen, oak met her Heps. She fell on her arm of fnow ; her fhield, her helmet flew wide. Her white bofom heaved to the fight : her dark-brown hair is fpread on earth. FiNGAL pitied the white-armed maid ! he fl:ayed the uplifted fword. The tear was in the eye of the king, as, bending forward* he fpoke — " King of ftreamy Sora ! fear not the fword of Fingal. It was never Itained with the blood of the vanquiflied ; it never pierced a fallen foe. Let thy people rejoice by thy native flireams. Let the maids of thy love be glad. Why fhouldeft thou fall in thy Youth, king of ftreamy Sora?" Frothal heard the words of Fingal, and faw the rifing maid ; they * ftood in filence, in their beauty ; like two young trees of the plain, when the iliower of fpring is on their leaves, and the loud winds are laid. Daughter of Herman, faid Frothal, didfl: thou come from Tora's ftreams-— didfl: thou come, in thy beauty, to behold thy warrior low ? But he was low before the migh- ty, r.iaid of the fiovv'^-rolling eye ! The feeble did not over- come the fon of car-borne Annir ? Terrible art thou, O kin ; of Morven ! in battles of the fpear : but, in peace, thou art iil^e the fun, when he looks thro' a filent ihoy/er : the * Fioikal and Utha. A POEM. 45 the Howers lift their fair heads before him ; the gales {hake their ruftiing wings. O that thou wert in Sora ! that my ' feafl were fpread ! The future kings of Sora would fee thy arms and rejoice — They would rejoice at the fame of their fathers, who beheld the mighty Fingal ! " Son of Annir," replied the king, " the fame of Sora's race fhall be heard ! When chiefs are ftrong in war, then does the fong arife. But if their fwords are flretched over the feeble: if the blood of the weak has ftained their arms ; the bard fhall forget them in the fong, and their tombs fhall not be known. The Itranger fliall come and build there, and remove the heaped-up earth. An half-worn fword fhall rife before him ; bending above it, he will fay, " Thefe are the arms of the chiefs of old, but their names are not in fong." Come thou, O Frothal, to the feafl of Iniflore ; let the maid of thy love be there ; let our faces brighten with joy !" Fingal took his fpear, moving in the fteps of his might. The gates of Carric-thura are opened wide. The feafl of fhells is fpread. The foft found of mufic arofe. Gladnefs brightened in the hall. The voice of Uilin was heard ; the harp of Selma was flrung. Utha rejoiced in his pre- fence, and demanded the fong of grief ; the big tear hung in her eye, when the foft * Crimora fpoke. Crimora the daughter of Rinval, who dwelt at Lotha's -j- roaring flream ! The tale was long, but lovely ; and pleafed the blufhing Utha. ^ ^ ° Lrimora^. Who Cometh from the hill, like a cloud tinged with the beam of the wefl ? Whofe voice is that, loud as the wind, but pleafant as the harp of Carril || ? It is my love in the light of fteel ; but fad is his darkened brow ! Live the * There is a propriety in introducing this epifodc, as the fituations of Crimora and Utha were (o fimilar. f Lotha was the ancient name of one of the great rivers in the norih of Scotland. The only one of them that ftill retains a name of a like found is Lochy, in Inver- nefsfliire ; but whether it is the river mentioned here, the tranflator will not pre- tend to fay. § Cn-mora, a woman of a great foul. jl Perhaps the Carril mentioned here is the fame with Carril the fon of Kinfe- na, Cuchullin's bard. The name ilfelf is proper to any bard, as it fignifies a Jpnghtly and harmonious fcmd. 46 C ARRIC-THURA: the mighty race of Fingal ? or what darkens in Connal's ^°^^*- CONNAL. They live. They return from the chace, like a ftream of light. The fun is on their fhields. Like a ridge of fire they defcend the hill. Loud is the voice of the youth ! The war, my love, is near ! To-morrow the dreadful Dar- go comes to try the force of our race. The race of Fingal he defies ; the race of battle and wounds ! Crimora. CoNNAL, I faw his fails like grey mifl on the dark- brown wave. They flowly came to land. Connal, many are the v/arriors of Dargo ! CoNNAL. Bring me thy father's fhield ; the boffy, iron fhieldof Rinval ; that fhield like the full-orbed moon, when fhe moves darkened through heaven. Crimora. That fhield I bring, O Connal ; but it did not defend my father. By the fpear of Gormar he fell. Thou may'ft fail, O Connal ! ^ ' Connal. Fall I may! But raife my tomb, Crimora ! Grey flones, a mound of earth, fhall fend my name to other times. — Bend thy red eye over my grave, beat thy mournful heav- ing bread. Though fair thou art, my love, as the light ; more pleafant than the gale of the hill; yet I will not here remain. Raife my tomb, Crimora ! Crimora. Then give me thofe arms that gleam ; that fword, and that fpear of fteel. I fhall meet Dargo with Connal, and aid him in the fight. Farewel, ye rocks of Ardven ! ye deer ! and ye ftreams of the hill ! We fliall return no more. Our tombs are diftant far ! " And did they return no more,'* faid Utha's burfting figh. " Fell the mighty in battle, and did Crimora live ? Her * Connal the fon of Diaran, was one of the moft famous heroes of Fingal ; he •was fiain in a battle aqainft Dargo a Briton; hut whether by the hand of the enemy, or that of his miftref:;, tradition docs not determine. A P O E M. 4- Her fleps were lonely ; her foul was fad for Connal, Was he not young and lovely ; like the beam of the fet- ting fun ?" Ullin law the virgin's tear ; he took the foftly- trembling harp : the fong was lovely, but fad, and filence was in Carric-thura. Autumn is dark on the mountains; grey mill refts on the hills. The whirlwind is heard on the heath. Dark rolls the river through the narrow plain. A tree ftands alone on the hill, and marks the llumbering Connal. The leaves whirl round with the wind, and drew the grave of the dead. At times are feen here the ghofls of the depart- ed, when the mufmg hunter alone ftalks flowly over the heath. Who can reach the fource of thy race, O Connal ? who recount thy fathers ? Thy family grew like an oak on the mountain, which meeteth the wind with its lofty head. But now it is torn from the earth. Who fhall fupply the place of Connal ? Here was the din of arms ; here the groans of the dying. Bloody are the wars of Fingal ! O Connal ! it was here thou didft fall. Thine arm was like a ftorm ; thy fword a beam of the Iky ; thy height a rock on the plain ; thine eyes, a furnace of fire. Louder than a llorm was thy voice, in the battles of thy fteel. War- riors fell by thy fword, as the thiflle by the ftaifof a boy. Dargo the mighty came on, darkening in his rage. His brows were gathered into wrath. His eyes like two caves in a rock. Bright rofe their fwords on each fide ; loud was the clang of their fteel. The daughter of Rinval was near ; Crimora bright in the armour of man ; her yellow hair is loofe behind, her bow is in her hand. She followed the youth to the war, Connal her much-beloved. She drew the firing on Dar- go ; but, erring, flie pierced her Connal. He falls, like an oak on the plain ; like a rock from the iliaggy hill. What Ihall llie do, haplefs maid t He bleeds, her ConnaF dies ! All the night long fhe cries, and all the day, " O Connal, my love, and my friend !'* With grief the fad mourner dies ! Earth here inclofes the lovelieft pair on the hill. The grafs grows between the flones of the toiiib ; I often fit in the mournful fliade. The wind fighs through the 48 C ARRIC-THURA. the grafs ; their memory ruflies on my mind. Undiflurb- ed you now fleep together ; in the tomb of the momitain you reft alone ! " And foft be their reft,'* faid Utha, " haplefs children offtreamy Lotha ! I will remember them with tears, and my fecret fong ftiall rife ; when the wind is in the groves of Tora, when the ftream is roaring near. Then fliall they come on my foul, with all their lovely grief !" Three days feafted the kings : on the fourth their white fails arofe. The winds of the north drove Fingal to Morven's woody land. But the fpirit of Loda fat, in his cloud, behind the ftiips of Frothal. • He hung forward with all his blafts, and fpread the white-bofomed fails. The wounds of his form were not forgot j he ftill fear- ed * the hand of the king ! * The flory of Fingal and the fpirit of Loda, fuppofed to be the famous Odin, Js the moft extravagant fiftion in all OITian's poems. It is not, however, without precedents in the beft poets ; and it muft be faid for Oflian, that he fays nothing but what perfeftly agreed with the notions of the times, concerning ghods. They thought the fouls of the dead were material, and confequently fufceptible of pain. Whether a proof could be drawn from this pafTage, that OfTian had no notion of a divinity, I fliall leave to others to determine : it appears, however, that he was of opinion, that fuperior beings ought to take no notice of what paffed among men. CARTHON: C A R T H O N A P O E M, C^ ARGUMENT. THIS poem is compleat, and the fubjeftof it, as of inoft of Oflian's compofition?, tragical. In the time or Comhal the fon of Trathal, and father of the celebrated Fingal, Clefsammor the fon of Thaddu and brother of Morna, Fingal's mother, was driven by a florm into the river Clyde, on the banks of which flood Balclu- tha, a town belonging to the Britons between the walls. He was hofpitably re- ceived by Rcuthdmir, the principal man in the place, who gave him Moina his only daughter in marriage. Reuda, the fon of Cormo, a Briton who was m love with Moina, came to Reuthamir's houfe, and behaved haughtily towards Clefsammor. A quarrel enfued, in which Reuda was killed ; the Britons, who attended him, prcnbd fo hard on Clefsammor, that he was obliged to throw him- felf into the Clvde, and fwim to his fliip. He hoilled fail, and the wind being favourable, bore him out to fca. He often endeavoured to return, and cany ofl his beloved Moina by night ; but the wind continuing contrary, be was forced to defiO. Moina, who had been left with child by her hufband, brought foTth a fon, and died foon after. — Reuthaniir named the child Carthon, ?'. e, the imirmur of loaves, from the florm which carried off Cleuammor his father, who was fuppo- fed to have been caft away. When Carthon was three years old, Comhal the father of Fingal, in one of his expeditions againft the Britons, took and burnt - Balclutha. Reuthamir was killed in the attack : and Carthon was carried fafe away by his nurfe, who fled farther into the country of the Britons. Carthon, coming to man's eflate, was refolved to revenge the fall of Balclutha on Com- hal's pofterity. He let fail, from the Clyde, and, falling on the coaft of Mor- ven, defeated two of Fingal's heroes, who came to oppofe his progrefs. He was, at laft, unwittingly killed by his father Clefsammor, in a (ingle combat. This (lory is the foundation of the prefcnt poem, which opens on the night pre- ceding the death of Carthon, fo that what paffed before is introduced by way o'' epifode. The poem is addrelTcd to Malvina the daughter of Tofcar. C A R T H O N : P O E M. A TALE of the times of old! the deeds of days of other years ! The murmur of thy dreams, O Lora, brings back the memiory of the paft. The found of thy woods, Garmal- lar, is lovely in my ear. Dofl thou not behold, Maivina, a rock with its head of heath ? Three aged pines bend from its face ; green is the narrow plain at its feet ; there the flower of the mountain grows, and iliakes its white head in the breeze. The thiflle is there alone, (hedding its aged beard. Two ftones, half-funk in the ground, fliew their heads of mofs. The deer of the mountain avoids the place, for he beholds a dim ghofl {landing there *. The mighty lie, O Malvina, in the narrow plain of the rock. A TALE of the times of old! the deeds of days of other years. Who comes from the land of flrangers, with his thou- fands around him ? The fun-beam pours its bright ft ream before him ; his hair meets the wind on his hills ; his face is fettled from war. Ke is calm as the evening beam that looks, from the cloud of the weft, on Cona's filent vale. Who is it but Comhal's fon -j-, the king of mighty deeds ! He beholds his hills with joy, he bids a thoufand voices rife. " Ye have fled over your fiel(^s, ye fons of the diftant land ! The king of the world fits in his hall, and hears of his people's flight. He lifts his red eye of pride; he takes his father's fword. Ye have fled over your fields, fons of the diflant land 1" Such were the words of the bards, when they came to Selma's * !t was the opinion of the times, that deer faw the ghoRs of the dead. To this day, when beads fuddenly fiart without any apparent^caufc, the vulgar think that they fee the fpirits ot the deceafed. t Fingal returns here, from an expedition ag;ainfl the Romans, which was cele- brated by Offian in a poem cdWcdt tkc Jlvifc of Crona, 52 CARTHON: Selma's halls. A thoufand lights * from the ftranger*s land rofe, in the midft of the people. The feaft is fpread around ; the night paffed away in joy. Where is the no- ble Clefsammor f, faid the fair-haired Fingal ? Where is the brother of Morna, in the hour of my joy ? Sullen and dark he paffes his days in the vale of echoing Lora : but, behold, he comes from the hill, like a deed in his flrength, who finds his companions in the breeze ; and toffes his bright mane in the wind. Blefl be the foul of Clefsammor; why fo long from Selma ? " Returns the chief, faid Clefsammor, in the midft of his fame ? Such was the renown of Comhal in the battles of his youth. Often did we pafs over Carun to the land of the ftrangers: our fwords returned, not unftained with blood ; nor did the kings of the world rejoice. Why do I remember the times of our war? My hair is mixed with grey. My hand forgets to bend the bow : I lift a lighter fpear. O that my joy would return, as when I firfl beheld the maid ; the white-bofpmed daughter of flrangers, Moina 1|, with the dark-blue eyes !" Tell, faid the mjghty Fingal, the tale of thy youthful days. Sorrow, like a cloud on the fun, (hades the foul of ClefTammor, Mournful are thy thoughts, alone, on the banks of the roaring Lora. Let us hear the forrow of thy youth, and the darknefs of thy days ! " It was in the days of peace," replied the great Clefs- ammor, " I came, in my bounding iliip, to Balclutha's § walls of towers. The winds iiad roared behind my fails, and Clutha's^ ftreams received my dark-bofomed Ihip. Three days I remained in Reuthamir's halls, and faw his daughter, that beam of light. The joy of the fhell went round, and the aged hero gave the fair. Her breads were like * Probably wax-lights ; which are often mentioned as carried, among other booty, fiom the Roman province. + Clf namh-mor, mighty deeds. II Mijln^, fqft in tcml:€r and pcrfen. We find the Britifli names in this poem derived from the Galic, which is a proof that the ancient language of the whole ifiand was one and the fame, ^ Bal'lutha, i. e. the town of Clyde, probably the Alcluth of Bede. i Clutha, or Cluath, the G.ilic name of the river Clyde, the fignification of the word is Ending, in allufion to the winding courle of that river. From Clutha is derived its Latin name, Glotta, A P O E M. 53 like foam on the wave, and her eyes like flars of light : her hair was dark as the raven's wing: her foul was gene- rous and mild. My love for Moina was great : my heart poured forth in joy. " The fon of a ftranger came ; a chief who loved the white-bofomed Moina. His words were mighty in the hall; he often half-uniheathed his fword. Where, faid he, is the mighty Comhal, the reftlefs wanderer * of the heath? Comes he, with his hoft, to Balclutha, fmce Clefsammor is fo bold ? My foul, I replied, O warrior ! burns in a light of its own. I Hand without fear in the midft of thoufands, though the valiant are diftant far. Stranger ! thy words are mighty, for Clefsammor is alone. But my fword trembles by my fide, and longs to glitter in my hand. Speak no more of Comhal, fon of the winding Clutha ! " The flrength of his pride arofe. We fought; he fell beneath my fword. The banks of Clutha heard his fall ; a thoufand fpears glittered around. I fought : the ftran- gers prevailed: I plunged into the ftream of Clutha. My white fails rofe over the waves, and I bounded on the dark- blue fea. Moina came to the fliore, and rolled the red eye of her tears : her loofe hair flew on the wind ; and I heard her mournful, diftant cries. Often did I turn my iliip! but the winds of the eaft prevailed. Nor Clutha ever fmce have I feen, nor Moina of the dark-brown hair. She fell in Balclutha, for I have feen her ghoft. I knew her as fhe came through the dufky night, along the murmur of Lora. She was like the new moon, feen through the gathered mill ; when the Iky pours down its flaky fnov/, and the world is filent and dark." Rais£|, ye bards, faid the mighty Fingal, the praife of unhappy ■^ The word in the original here rendered reJHcfs wanderer is Scuta, which is the true origin of the Scoti oiiht Romans: an opprobrious name impofed by the Britons, on the (Caledonians, on account of the continual incurfions into their country. + The title of this poem, in the original, k Duan na nlaoi, i. e. The Poem of the Hymns: probably on account of its many digreflions from the fubjeft, all which are in a lyiic meafure, as this fong of Fingai. Fingal is ctlebrated by the Irifli hiftorians for his wifdom in making laws, his poetical genius, and his foreknow- ledge of events. O'f laherty goes fo fai as to fay, that Fingal's laws were extant i» i^is own time. 54 C A R T H O N: unhappy Moina. Call her ghoft, with ^^our fongs, to out hills ; that llie may reft with the fair of Morven, the fun- beams of other days, the delight of heroes of old. I have feen the walls of Balclutha, but they were defolate. The fire had refounded in the halls : and the voice of the peo- ple is heard no more. The ftream of Clutha was removed from its place, by the fall of the walls. The thiftle fhook, there, its lonely head : the mofs whiftled to the wind : the fox looked out, from the windows ; the rank grafs of the wall waved round its head. Defolate is the dwelling of Moina ; filence is in the houfe of her fathers. Raife the fong of mourning, O bards, over the land of ftrangerso They have but fallen before us ; for, one day, we muft fall. "Why doft thou build the hall, fon of the winged days ? Thou lookeft from thy tov/ers to-day ; yet a few years, and the blaft of the defart comes ; it howls in thy empty court, and whiftles round thy half-worn fliield. And let the blaft of the defart come ! we ftiall be renowned in our day ! The mark of my arm fhall be in battle ; my name in the fong of bards. Raife the fong ; fend round the fliell : let joy be heard in my hall. When thou, fun of heaven, fhalt fail ! — if thou llialt fail, thou mighty light ! if thy brightnefs is for a feafon, like Fingal; — our fame fliallfur- vive thy beams ! Such was the fong of Fingal, in the day of his joy. His thoufand bards leaned forward from their feats, to hear the voice of the king. It v/as like the mufic of harps on the gale of the fpring. Lovely were thy thoughts, O Fingal ! v/hy had not OfTian the ftrength of thy foul ? But thou ftandeft. alone, my father ! Who can equal the king of Selma ? The night palTed away in fong ; morning returned in joy. The mountains fhewed their grey heads ; the blue face of ocean fmiled. The white wave is feen tumbling round the diftant rock ; a mift rofe, llowiy, from the lake. It came, in the figure of an aged man, along the filent plain. Its large limbs did not move in fteps; for a ghoft fupported it in mid air. It came towards Selma's hall, and difi'olved in a fhower of blood. The king alone beheld the fight ; heforefaw the death of A P O E 55 of the people. He came, in filence, to his hall, and took his father's fpear. The mail rattled on his breaft. The heroes rofe around. They looked in filence on each other, marking the eyes of Fingal. They faw battle in his face ; the death of armies on his fpear. A thoufand iliields, at once, are placed on their arms ; they drew a thoufand fwords. The hall of Selma brightened around. The clang of arms afcends. The grey dogs howl in their place. No word is among the mighty chiefs. Each marked the eyes of the king, and half-alTumed his fpear. Sons of Morven, begun the king, this is no time to fill the fliell. The battle darkens near us ; death hovers over the land. Some ghoft, the friend of Fingal, has forewarned us of the foe. The fons of the ftranger come from the darkly-rolling fea ; for, from the water, came the fign of Morven's gloomy danger. Let each aii'ume his heavy fpear, each gird on hi« father's fword. Let the dark helmet rife on every head ; the mail pour its lightening from every fide. The battle gathers like a ftorm ; foon fhall ye hear the roar of death. The hero moved on before his hofl, like a cloud before a ridge of green fire ; when it pours on the fky of night, and mariners forefee a ftorm. On Cona's rifino; heath they Kood: the white-bofomed maids beheld them above like a grove ; they forefaw the death of the youth, and looked towards the fea with fear. The white wave de- ceived them for diftant fails ; the tear is on their cheek ! The fun rofe on the fea, and we beheld a diftant fleet. Like the mift of ocean they came; and poured their youth upon the coaft. The chief was among them, like the ftag in the midft of the herd. His fhield is ftudded with gold; ftately ftrode the king of fpears. He moved towards Sel- ma ; his thoufands moved behind. Go, with a fong of peace, laid Fingal ; go, UUin, to the king of fwords. Tell him that we are mighty in war; that the ghofts of our foes are many. But renowned are they who have feafted in my halls ! thev fliew the arms * of * It was a cuftom among the ancient Scots, to exchange arms with their gupfts, and thofe arms were preferved long in the different families, as monuments of ibf friendfhip which fubfifted between their anceftors. 56 C A R T H O N: of my fathers in a foreign land: the fons of the ftrangers wonder, and blefs the friends of Morven's race ; for our names have been heard afar: the kings of the world (liook in the midft of their hoft. Ullin went with his fong. Fingal refted on his fpear: he faw the mighty foe in his armour ; he blefl the Gran- ger's fon. " How (lately art thou, fon of the fea! faid the king of woody Morven. Thy fvvord is a beam of fire by thy fide : thy fpear is a pine that defies the ftorm. The varied face of the moon is not broader than thy fhield. Ruddy is thy face of youth ! foft the ringlets of thy hair! But this tree may fall ; and his memory be forgot ! The daughter of the ftranger will be fad, looking to the roll- ing fea : the children will fay, " We fee a fliip ; perhaps it is the king of Balclutha.'* The tear flarts from their mother's eye. Her thoughts are of him who fleeps in Morven !" Such were the words of the king, when Ullin came to the mighty Carthon : he threw down his fpear before him ; he raifed the fong of peace. " Come to the feafl of Fin- gal, Carthon, from the rolling fea ! partake of the feafl: of the king, or lift the fpear of war ! The ghofts of our foes are many : but renov/ned are the friends of Morven ! Behold that field, O Carthon; many a green hill rifes there, with mofly ftones and ruflling grafs : thefe are the tombs of Fingal's foes, the fons of the rolling fea!" " Dost thou fpeak to the weak in arms !'* faid Car- thon, " bard of the woody Morven ? Is my face pale for fear, fon of the peaceful fong ? Why, then, dofl thou think to darken my foul with the tales of thofe who fell ? My arm has fought in battle ; my renown is known afar. Go to the feeble in arms, bid them yield to Fingal. Have not I feen the fallen Balclutha? and fhali I feafl; with Combal's fon ? Comhal ! who threw his fire, in the midfl: of my father's hall! I was young, and knew not the caufe why the virgins wept. The columns of fmoke pleafed ^mine eye, v/hen they rofe above my walls ! I often 'ooked back, Yvith gladnefs, when my friends fled along the hill. But when the years of my youth came on, I beheld the mofs of my fallen walls : my figh arofe with the morning, and A POEM. ^q and my tears defcended with night. Shall I not fight, I faid to my foul, againft the children of my foes ? And I will fight, O bard ! I feel the ftrength of my foul." His people gathered around the hero, and drew, at once, their fhining fwords. He Hands, in the midll, like a pillar of fire ; the tear half-ftarting from his eye ; for he thought of the fallen Balclutha ; the crouded pride of his foul arofe. Sidelong he looked up to the hill, where our heroes fhone in arms ; the fpear trembled in his hand : bending forward, he feemed to threaten the king. Shall I, faid Fingal to his foul, meet, at once, the youth ? Shall I flop him, in the midil of his courfe, be- fore his fame fliall arife ? But the bard, hereafter, may fay, when he fees the tomb of Carthon ; Fingal took his thou- fands to battle, before the noble Carthon fell. No : bard of the times to come ! thou ihalt not lelTen Fingal's fame. My heroes will fight the youth, and Fingal behold the war. If he overcomes, I rufh, in my ftrength, like the roaring ftream of Cona. Who^ of my chiefs, will meet the fon of the rolling fea ? Many are his warriors on the coaft j and ftrong is his allien fpear ! Cathul* rofe, in his ftrength, the fon of the mighty Lormar: three hundred youths attend the chief, the racef of his native ftreams. Feeble v/as his arm againft Car- thon : he fell ; and his heroes fled. Connal || refumed the battle ; but he broke his heavy fpear : he lay bound on the field : Carthon purfued his people. Clessammor i faid the king§ of Morven, where is the fpear of thy ftrength ? Wilt thou behold Connal bound ; thy friend, at the ftream of Lora ? Rife, in the light of thy fteel, companion of valiant Comhal. Let the youth of Balclutha feel the ftrength of Morven's race. He rofe in the ftrength of his fteel, fnaking his grifly locks. He fit- ted the fliield to his fide ; he rufned, in the pride of valour. H Carthon * Cath-'huil, theeve efhatfU. + It appears, from t is pafTage, that clanOilp was eflabliiTied, in the days of Fin- '^^ ; *i!°^°J^ "Of "" the fame footing with the prtfcnt tribes in the north of Scotland. II IhisLonnilisverv muchcclr-brated, in ancient poetry, for his wifdom and valour: there ,s a fmall tribe ftiU fubfifl.ng, in the North, who pretend they are delcended from him. ' i 7 § Fmgal did not then know that Carthon was the fon of Clefsammor. 58 C A R T H O N: Carthon flood, on a rock : he faw the hero ruihlng on. He loved the dreadful joy of his face ; his ftrength, in the locks of age ! " Shall I lift that fpear, he faid, that never ftrikes, but once, a foe ? or fhall I, with the w^ords of peace, preferve the warrior's life ? Stately are his fteps of age ! lovely the remnant of his years ! Perhaps it is the hufband of Moina ; the father of car-borne Carthon. Often have I heard, that he dwelt at the echoing flreani of Lora." Such were his words, when Ciefsammor came, and lift- ed high his fpear. The youth received it on his Ihield, and fpoke the words of peace. " Warrior of the aged locks ! Is there no youth to lift the fpear ? Haft thou no fon, to raife the ihield before his father, to meet the arm of youth ? Is the fpoufe of thy love no more ? or weeps file over the tombs of thy fons ? Art thou of the kings of men ? What will be the fame of my fword fhouldft thou fall r It will be great, thou fon of pride ! begun the tall Ciefsammor. I have been renowned in battle ; but I ne- ver told my name* to a foe. Yield to me, fon of the wave ; then flialt thou know, that the mark of my fword is in many a field. " I never yielded, king of fpears!" replied the noble pride of Carthon : " I have alfo fought in war ; I behold my future fame. Defpife me not, thou chief of men ; my arm, my fpear is ftrong. Retire among thy friends, let younger heroes fight.'' Why doft thou wound my foul, replied Ciefsammor with a tear? Age does not tremble on my hand ; I Hill can lift the fword. Shall I fiy in Fingal's fight ; in the fight of him. I love ? Son of the fea ! I never fied : exalt thy pointed fpear. They fought, like two contending winds, that ftrive to roll the wave. Carthon bade his fpear to err ; he flill thought that the foe was the fpoufe of Moina. He broke Clefsammor's beamy fpear in twain : he feized his fliining fword. But, as Carthon was binding the chief, the chief drew * To tell one's name to an enemy was reckoned, in t'nofe days of heroifm, a manifeft cvafion of fighting him ; for, if it was once known, that friendfiiip fubfifl- ed, of old, between the anccflois of the combatants, the battle immediately ccafed; and the ancient amity of their forefathers was renewed. A man who tells his navw to his tnany^ was of old an ignominious term for a coward. A POEM. 59 drew the dagger of his fathers. He faw the foe*s unco- vered fide ; and opened, there, a wound. FiNGAL faw Clefsammor low : he moved in the found of his fteel. The hofl flood filent, in his prefence ; they turned their eyes to the king. He came, like the fullen noife of a ftorm, before the winds arife; the hunter hears it in the vale, and retires to the cave of the rock. Carthon ftood in his place : the blood is ruihing down his fide : he faw the coming down of the king ; his hopes of fame arofe * ; but pale was his cheek : his hair fiev/ loofe, his helmet Ihook on high : the force of Carthon failed ; but his foiil was flrong. FiMGAL beheld the hero's blood ; he fiopt the uplifted fpear. " Yield, king offwords," faid Comhal's Ton; " I behold thy blood. Thou haft been mighty in battle ; and thy fame ftiall never fade." " Art thou the king fo far renowned ?" replied the car-borne Carthon. " Art thou that light of death, that frightens the kings of the world ? But why fhould Carthon afk ? for he is like the ftream of his hills ; ftrong as a river, in his courfe ; fwift as the eagle of heaven. O that I had fought with the king, that my fame might be great in fong ! that the hunter, be- holding my tomb, might fay, He fought with the mighty Fingal. But Carthon dies unknown ; he has poured out his force on the weak." ^^ But thou flialt not die unknown," replied the king of v/oody Morven : " my bards are many, O Carthon ; their fongs defcend to future times. The children of years to come fhail hear the fame of Carthon ; when they fit round the burning oakf, and the night is fpent in fongs of old. The hunter, fitting in the heath, iliall hear the rufl- ling blaft ; and, raifmg his eyes, behold the rock where Carthon fell. He lliall turn to his fon, and lliew the place where the mighty fought; " There the king of Balclutha fought, like the (Irength of a thoufand ftreams." Joy * This exprenion admits of a double meaning, cither ihat Carthon hoped to ac- quire glory by killing Fingal; or to be rendered famous by falling by his hand. The laft is the mofl probable, as Carthon is already wounded. f In the north of Scotland, till very lately, they burnt a large trunk of an oak at their feftivals ; it was called the trunk oftliefeajl. Time had, fo much, confe» crated the Cuftom, that the vulgar thought it a kind of facrilcge to difufe it. 6o CARTHON: Joy rofe in Carthon's face : he lifted his heavy eyes. He gave his fword to Fingai, to lie within his hall, that the memory of Balclutha's king might remain in Morven. The battle ceafed along the field ; the bard had fung the fong of peace. The chiefs gathered round the falling Car- thon ; they heard his words, with fighs. Silent they leaned on their fpears, while Balclutha's hero fpoke. His hair fighed in the wind, and his voice was fad and low. " King of Morven," Carthon faid, " I fall in the midfl of my courfe. A foreign tomb receives, in youth, the lafl of Reuthcirair's race. Darknefs dwells in Balclutha : the fhadows of grief in Crathmo. But raife my remembrance on the banks of Lora ; where my fathers dwelt. Per- haps the huftand of Moina will mourn over his fallen Carthon." His words reached the heart of Clefsamrnor : he fell, in filence. on his fon. The holl flood darkened around: no voice is on the plain. Night came: the moon, from the eafr, looked on the mournful field: but flill they flood, like a filent grove that lifts its head on Gormal, v/hen the loud winds are laid, and dark autumn is on the plain. Tfiree days they mourned above Carthon ; on the fourth his father died. In the narrow plain of the rock they lie ; a dim ghofl defends their tomb. There lovely Moina is often feen ; when the fun-beam darts on the rock, and all around is dark. There fhe is feen, Malvina ; but not like the daughters of the hill. Her robes are from the flranger's land ; and fhe is flill alone. FiNGAL was fad for Carthon; he commanded his bards to mark the day, when fliadowy autumn returned : And often did they mark the day, and fmg the hero's praife. " Who comes fo dark from ocean's roar, like autumn's fliadowy cloud? Death is trembling in his hand! his eyes are flames of fire ! Who roars along dark Lora's heath ? V/ho but Carthon, king of fwords ? The people fall! See! how he flrides, like the fullen ghofl of Morven ! But there he lies, a goodly oak, which fudden blafls overturned! When ihalt thou rife, Balclutha's joy ! W^hen, Carthon, (hrilt thou ariJe ? Who comes fo dark from ocean's roar, like autumn's fhadowy- cloud ?" Such were the words of the A P O E M; 61 the bards, in the day of their mourning: OfTian often joined their voice ; and added to their fong. My foul has been mournful for Carthon; he fell in the days of his youth. And thou, O Clefsammor ! where is thy dwelling in the wind ? Has the youth forgot his wound ? Flies he, on clouds, with thee ? I feel the fun, O Malvina ; leave me to my reft. Perhaps they may come to my dreams ; I think I hear a feeble voice! The beam of heaven delights to fhine on the grjve of Carthon: I feel it warm around! O TKOU that roUeft above, round as the fhield of my fathers ! Whence are thy beams, O fun ! thy everlafiing light ? Thou comeft forth, in thy aw'ful beauty ; the ftars hide themfelves in the iky ; the moon, cold, and pale, fmks in the weftern wave. But thou thyfelf moveft alone: who can be a companion of thy courfe ! The oaks of the mountains fall : the mountains themfelves decay with years; the ocean fhrinks and grows again: the moon her- felf is loft in heaven ; but thou art for ever the fame ; rejoicing in the brightnefs of thy courfe. When the world is dark with tempefts : when thunder rolls, and lightning flies ; thou lookeft in thy beauty, from the clouds, and laugheft at the ftorm. But to Offian thou lookeft in vain ; for he beholds thy beams no more ; whether thy yellow hair flows on the eaftern clouds, or thou trembleil at the gates of the weft. But thou art, perhaps, like me, for a feafon ; thy years will have an end. Thou ftialt lleep in thy clouds, carelefs of the voice of the morning. Exult then, O fun, in the ftrength of thy youth ! Age is dark and unlovely ; it is like the glimmering light of the moon, when it fhines through broken clouds, and the mift is on the hills ; the blaft of the north is on the plain, the tra- veller Ihrinks in the midft of his journey. OINA. I N A- M O R U L POEM. ARGUMENT. AFTER an addrefs to Malvina, the daughter of Tofcar, OITian proceeds to relate his own expedition to Fuarfed, an ifland of Scandinavia. Mal-orchol, king of Fuarfed, being hard preffed in war, by Ton-thormod, chief of Sar-dronlo, (who had demanded, in vain, the daughter of Mal-orchol in marriage) Fingal fent Ofiian to his aid. Oflian, on the day after his arrival, came to battle with Ton- thoimod, and took him prifoner. Mal-orchol offers his daughter Oina-Morul to Ofiian : but he, difcovering herpaffion for Ton-thormod, generoufly furren- ders her to her lover, and brings about a reconciliation between the two kings. OINA-MORUL: POEM. As flies the unconftant fun, over Larmon's grafly hill; fo pafs the tales of old, along my foul, by night I When bards are removed to their place : M^hen harps are hung in Selma's hall ; then comes a voice to Offian, and awakes his foul ! It is the voice of years that are gone ! they roll before me, with all their deeds! I feize the tales, as they pafs, and pour them forth in fong. Nor a troubled ftream is the fong of the king, it is like the rifmg of mufic from Lutha of the firings. Lutha of many firings, not filent are thy ftreamy rocks, when the white hands of Malvina move upon the harp ! Light of the fliadowy thoughts that fly acrofs my foul, daughter of Tofcar of helmets, wilt thou not hear the fong ! We call back, maid of Lutha, the years that have rolled away ! It was in the days of the king, while yet my locks were young, that I marked Con-cathlin *, on high, from ocean's nightly wave. My courfe was towards the ille of Fuarfed, woody dweller of feas ! Fingal had fent me to the aid of Mal-orchol, king of Fuarfed wild: for war was around him, and our fathers had met, at the feafl. In Col-coiled, I bound my fails ; I fent my fword to Mal-orchol of fhells. He knew the fignal of Albion, and his joy arofe. He came from his own high hall, and feized I my * Con-cathlin, mild Uam of the zvave . What ftar was fo called of old is not cafily afcer'ained. Some now diflinguifli the pole-ftar by that name. A fong, which is ftill in repute, among the fea-farlng part of the Highlanders, allud -s to this paffage of Offian. The author commends the knowledge of Oflian in fea-af- fairs; a merit, which, perhaps, few of us moderns will allow him, or any in the age in v/hich he lived. One thing is certain, that the Caledonians often made their way thro' the dangerous and tempefluous feas of Scandinavia; which is more, per- haps, than the more polifhed nations, fubfifling in thofe times, dared to venture. In eftimating the degree of knowledge of arts among the antients, we ought not to bring it into comparifon with the improvements of modern times. Our advaiv {jges over them proceed more from accident, than any merit of ours. 66 OINA-MORUL: my hand in grief. " Why comes the race of heroes to a falling king ? Ton-thormod of many fpears is the chief of wavy Sar-dronlo. He faw and loved my daughter, white- bofomed Oina-morul. He fought : I denied the maid ; for our fathers had been foes. He came, vvith battle, to Fuarfed ; my people are rolled away. Why comes the race of heroes to a falling king ?'* I COME not, I faid, to look, like a boy, on the ftrife. Fingal remembers Mal-orchol, and his hall for ftrangers. From his waves, the warrior defcended, on thy woody ifle. Thou wert no cloud before him. Thy feaft was fpread with fongs. .For this my fword Ihall rife ; and thy foes perhaps may fail. Our friends are not forgot in their danger, though diflant is our land. " Descendant of the daring Trenmor, thy words are like the voice of Cruth-loda, when he fpeaks, from his parting cloud, flrong dweller of the fky ! . Many have re- joiced at my feaft ; but they all have forgot Mal-orchol. I have looked towards all the winds ; but no white fails were feen. Eut fteel * refounds in my hall ; and not the joyful fhells. Come to my dwelling, race of heroes ; dark- 'fkirted night is near. Hear the voice of fongs, from the maid of Fuarfed wild." We went. On the harp arofe the white hands of Oina- morul. She waked her own fad tale, from every trem- bling liring. I ftood in filence ; for bright in her looks was the daughter of many ifles ! Her eyes were two ftars, looking forw^ard through a rufliing fliower. The mariner marks them on high, and bleifes the lovely beams. With morning * There is a fevere fatire couched in this expreilion, againft the guefls of Mal- orchol. Had his feaft been flill fpread,. had joy continued in his hail, his former parafitcs would not have failed to rcfort to him. But as the time of feftivity was pad, their attendance alfo ce^fed. The fentiuients of a certain old bard are a^r^rce- able to this obfervation. He, poetically, compares a great man to a fire kindled .in a defart place. " Thofe that pay court to him, fays he, arc rolling large around him, like the unoke about the fire. This fmoke gives the fire a great appearance at a diftance, but it is but an empty vapour Itfelf, and varying its form at every breeze. When the trunk, which fed the fire, is confumed, the fmoke departs on all the winds. So the flatterers forfake their chief, when his power dechnes." I have chofen to give a pa-aphrafe, rather than a tranllaiion, ot this paffage, as the original is verbofe and frothy, notwSihuanding of the fcntimental merit of the au- thor. He was one of tlie lefs aiitient bardSj and their compofitions arc not ncivoui enough to bear a literal tianfluticn. A P O E M. 67 morning we ruflied to battle, to Tormul's refounding ftream : the foe moved to the found of Ton-thormod's bofly fliield. From v/ing to wing the flrifs was mixed. I met Ton-thormod in fight. Wide flew his broken fteel. I feized the king in v/ar. I gave his hand, bound faft with thongs, to Mabprchol, the giver of (lieils. Joy rofe at the feafl of Fuarfcd, for the foe had failed. Ton-thormod turned his face away, from Oina-morul of iiles 1" " Son of Fingal," begun Mal-ofchol, " not forgot {halt thou pafs from me. A light iliall dv. ell in thy fliip, Oina-morul of flow-rolling eyes. She ihall kindle glad-, nefs, along thy mighty foul. Nor unheeded (hall the maid move in Selma, through the dwelling of kings !" In the hall I lay in night. Mine eyes were half-clofed in fleep. Soft mufic came to mine ear : it was lik^ the rifmg breeze, that whirls, at firft, the thiflle's beard ; then flies, dark-fliadowy, over the grafs. It was the maid of Fuarfed wild ! ihe raifed the nightly fong ; ihe knew that my foul was a ftream, that flowed at pleafant founds. " Who looks," foe faid, " from his rock, on ocean's clof- ing mift ? His long locks, like the raven's wing, are wan- dering on the blaft. Stately are his ileps in grief! The tears are in his eyes ! His manly breaft is heaving over his burfting foul ! Retire, I am diftant far ; a wanderer in lands unknown. Though the race of kings are around me, yet my foul is dark. Why have our fathers been foes, Ton-thormod love of maids !" " Soft voice of the ftreamy ifle," I faid, " why doft thou mourn by night ? The race of daring Trenmor are not the dark in foul. Thou flialt not wander by ftreams unknown, blue-eyed Oina-moriil ! AVithin t!*iis bofom is a voice ; it comes not to other ears : it bids Oflran hear the haplefs, in their hour of woe. Retire, fott finger by night ; Ton-thormod fl:iall not mourn on his rock !" With morning I loofed the king. I gave the long- haired maid. Mal-orchol heard my words, in the midft of his echoing halls. " King of Fuarfed wild, why fhould Ton-thormod mourn ? He is of the race of heroes, and a flame in war. Your fathers have been foes, but now their dim ghofts rejoice in death. They ftretch their hands oF mill: 68 OINA-MORUL. mift to the fame jfhell in Loda. Forget their rage, ye warriors ! it was the cloud of other years." Such were the deeds of Offian, while yet his locks were young : though lovelinefs, with a robe of beams, clothed the daughter of many ifles. We call back, maid of Lutha, the years that have rolled away ! COLNA- COLNA-DON POEM. ARGUMENT. FINGAL difpatches OITian anu Tofcar, the fon of Conloch and father of Malvi- na, to raife a ftoiie, on the banks of the dream of Crona, to perpetuate the me- mory of a viflory, which he had obtained in that place. When they were em- ployed in that v;ork, Car-ul, a neighbouring chief, invited them to a feafl. They v/ent; and Tofcar fell defperately in love with Colna-doaa, the daughter of Car-ul. Colna-dona becomes no lefs enamoured of Tofcar. An incident, at a hanting party, brings their loves to a happy iflue. COLNA-DONA: A P O E xVT. */^OL-AMON of troubled flreams, dark wanderer of Kji diftant vales, I behold thy courfe, between trees, near Car-ul's echoing halls ! There dwelt bright Colna-' dona, the daughter of the king. Her eyes were rolling ftars ; her arms were white as the foam of flreams. Her breaft rofe flov/iy to fight, like ocean's heaving wave. Her foul was a flream of light. Who, among the maids, was like the love of heroes ? Beneath the voice of the king, we moved to Cronaf of the dreams, Tofcar of graify Lutha, and Offian, young in fields. Three bards attended with fongs. Three bolTy fliields were borne before us : for we were to rear the flone, in memory of the pafl. By Crona*s moffy courfe, Fingal had fcattered his foes : he had rolled away the flrangers, like a troubled fea. 'We came to the place of renown : from the mountains defcended night. I tore an oak from its hill, and raifed a flame on high. I bade my fathers to look down, from the clouds of their hail j for, at the fame of their race, they brighten in the wind. I TOOK * Colna-dona figiiines tie love of heroes. Col-amon, narroto river. Car-ul, dark- C}rd. Col-amon, the refidcnce of Car-ul, was in the neighbourhood of Agricola'j wall, towards the fouth. Car-ul feems to have been of the race of thofe Britons, who are diftinguiflied by the name of Maiatse, by the writei:s.-of Rome. Maiata* is derived from two Galic words, Moi, a plain, and Aitich, inhabitants; fo that the fignification of Maiata is, the inhabitants of the plain country ; a name given to the Britons, who were fettled in the Lowlands, in contradlflin£lion to the Caledo* mans, (i.e. Cael-don, the Gauls of the hills) who were pofieffed of the more moun-' tainous divifion of North-Britain. t Crona, murmunng, was the name of a fmall Rream, which difcharged itfelf into the river Carron, It is oficn mentioned by Offian, and the fcencs of many ot his poems are on its banks. The enemies, whom Fingal defeated here, are not m.entioned. They were, probably, the provincial Britons. That traft of coun- try between the Firths of Forth and Clyde has been, thro' all antiquity, famous for battles and rencounters, between the different nations, who were pofielfcd of North and South Britain. Stirling, a town fituated there, derives its name from that very circumftance. It is a corruption of the Gallc name, Sui!.t, i. e. the hill, cr rocky of contention. 72 COLNA>DONA: I TOOK a ftone from the ftream, amidll the fong of bards. The blood of Fingal's foes hung curdled in its ooze. Beneath, I placed, at intervals, three bolTes from the fhields of foes, as rofe or fell the found of UUin's nightly fong, Tofcar laid a dagger in the earth, a mail of founding fteel. We raifed the mould around the ftone, and bade it fpeak to other years. Oozy daughter of ftreams, that now art reared on high, fpeak to the feeble, O ftone, after Selma's race have failed ! Prone, from the ftormy night, the traveller Ihall lay him by thy fide ; thy whiftling mofs ftiall found in his dreams ; the years that were paft ftiall return. Battles rife before him, blue-ftiielded kings defcend to war: the darkened moon looks from heaven, on the trou- bled field. He ftiall burft, with morning, from dreams, and fee the tombs of warriors round. He lliall afk about the ftone, and the aged ftiall reply, " This grey ftone was raifed by Oflian, a chief of other years !" * From Col-amon came a bard, from Car-ul, the friend of ftrangers. He bade us to the feaft of kings, to the dwelling of bright Colna-dona. We went to the hall of harps. There Car-ul brightened between his aged locks, when he beheld the fons of his friends, like two young branches before him. " Sons of the mighty," he faid, " ye bring back the days of old, when firft I defcended from waves, on Sel- ma*s ftreamy vale ! I purfued Duth-mocarglos, dweller of ocean's wind. Our fathers had been foes, we met by Clutha's winding waters. He fled, along the fea, and my fails were fpread behind him. Night deceived me, on the deep. * The manners of the Britons and Caledonians were fo fimiiar, in the days of Oflian, that there can be no doubt, that they were originally the fame people, and defcended from thole Gauls who firft poffeffed themfelves of Souih-Bntain, and gradually migrated to the north. This hypotkefis is more rational than the idle fa- bles of ill-informed fenachies, who bring the Caledonians from diilant countries. The bare opinion of Tacitus, (which, by-the-bye, was only founded on a fimilarity of the perfonal figure of the Caledonians to the Germans of his own time) tho' it has (lagt^ered fome learned men, is not fufficient to make us believe, that the anci- ent inhabitants of North-Britain were a German colony. A difcuflion of a point like this might be curious, but could never be fatisfatlory. Periods fo diftant are fo involved in obfcuuiv, that nothing certain can be now advanced concerning them. The light which the Roman writers hold forth js too feeble to guide us to ihc truth, thro' the datknefs which b.as funounded it. A P O E M. 73 deep. I came to the dwelling of kiijgs, to Selma of high- bofomed maids. Fingal came forth with his bards, and Conloch, arm of death. I feafled three days in the hall,, and faw the blue-eyes of Erin, Ros-crana, daughter of heroes, light of Cormac's race. Nor forgot did my fteps depart: the kings gave their fhields to Car-ul: they hang, on high, in Col-amon, in m.emory of the paft. Sons of the daring kings, ye bring back the days of old ! Car-ul kindled the oak of feafts. He took two bofies from our ihields. He laid them in earth, beneath a (lone, to fpeak to the hero's race. " When battle," faid the king, " Ihall roar, and our fons are to meet in wrath, my race fliaii look, perhaps, on this (tone, when they pre- pare the fpear. Have not our fathers met ? they will fay, and lay afide the fliield." Night came dcrvvn. In her long locks moved the daughter of Car-ul. Mixed with the harp arofe the voice of white-armed Colna-dona. Tofcar darkened in his place, before the love of heroes. She came on his trou- bled foul, like a beam, to the dark-heaving ocean : when, it burfts from a cloud, and brightens the foamy fide of a wave*. With morning we awaked the woods ; and hung for- ward on the path of the roes. They fell by their wonted ftreams. We returned through Crona's vale. From the wood a youth came forward, with a Ihield and pointlefs fpear. " Whence," faid Tofcar of Lutha, " is the flying beam ? Dwells there peace at Col-amon, round bright Colna-dona of harps ?" " By Col-amon of dreams," faid the youth, " bright Colna-dona dwelt. She dwelt ; but her courfe is now in defarts, with the fon of the king ; he that feized with love her foul as it wandered thro' the hall." " Stranger or tales," laid Tofcar, " haft thou marked the warrior's courfe ? He mud fall : give thou that boffy Ihield !" In wrath he took the fliield. Fair behind it rofe the breafl:s K of * Here an epifode is entirely loft ; or, at leaft, is handed down fo impeifeftl/^ that it does not defervc a place in the poem. 74 COLNA-DON A. of a maid, white as the bofom of a fwan, rifmg graceful on fwift-rolling waves. It was Colna-dona of harps, the daughter of the king ! Her blue eyes had rolled on Tof- car, and her iove arofe ! OITHONA I T H 6 N A A P O E ARGUMENT. GAUL, the fon of Morni, attended Lathmon into his own country after his being defeated in Morven, as related in the prece,ding poem. He was kindly enter- tained by Nuath, the father of Lathmon, and fell in love with his daughter Oi- thona. The lady was no lefs enamoured of Gaul, and a day was fixed for their marriage. In the mean time Fingal, preparing for an expedition into the country of the Britons, fent for Gaul. He obeyed, and went ; but not without promifing to Oithona to return, if he furvived the war, by a certain day. Lath- mon too was obliged to anend his father Nuath in his wars, and Oithona was left alone at Dunlathmon, the feat of the family. Dunrommath, lord of Uthal, fuppofed to be one of the Orkneys, taking advantage of the abfence of her friends, came and carried off, by force, Oithona, who had formerly rejefted his love, into Tromathon, a defart ifland, where he concealed her in a cave. Gaul returned on the day appointed ; heard of the rape, and failed to Troma- thon, to revenge himfelf on Dunrommath. When he landed, he found Oi- thona difconfolate, ar.d refolved not to furvive the lofs of her honour. She told him the ftory of her misfortunes, and fhe fcarce ended, when Dunrommath, with his followers, appeared at the further end of the ifland. Gaul prepared to attack him, recommending to Oithona to retire, till the battle was over. She feemingly obeyed; but fhe fecretly armed herfelf, rufiied into the thickefl of the battle, and was mortally wounded. Gaul purfuing the flying enemy, found her juft expiring on the field: he mourned over her, raifcd her tomb, and returned to Morven. Thus is the flory handed down by tradition; nor is it given with any material difference in the poem, which opens with Gaul's return to Dun- laihnion, after the rape of Oithona. O I T H O N A : OEM. DARKNESS dwells around Dunlathmon, though the moon fhews half her face on the hill. The daugh- ter of night turns her eyes "away ; flie beholds the ap- proaching grief. The fon of Morni is on the plain : there is no found in the hall. No long-ftreaming beam of light comes trembling through the gloom. The voice of Oitho- na * is not heard amidll the noife of the ftreams of Duv- ranna. " Whither art thou gone in thy beauty, dark- haired daughter of Nuath ? Lathmon is in the field of the valiant, but thou didft promife to remain in the hall ; thou didft promife to remain in the hall, till the fon of Morni returned — till he returned from Strumon, to the maid of his love ! The tear was on thy cheek at his de- parture ; the figh rofe in fecret in thy breaft. But thou doft not come forth with fongs, with the lightly-trembling found of the harp !" Such were the words of Gaul, when he came to Dun- lathmon's towers. The gates were open and dark. The winds were bluftering in the hall. The trees ftrewed the threfhold with leaves : the murmur of night was abroad. Sad and filent, at a rock, the fon of Morni fat : his foul trembled for the maid ; but he knew not whither to turn his courfe. The fon | of Leth ftood at a diftance, and heard the winds in his bufhy hair. But he did not raife his voice, for he faw the forrow of Gaul ! Sleep defcended on the chiefs. The vifions of night arofe. Oithona ftood, in a dream, before the eyes of Morni's * Ol-thona, the virgin of the wave. + Morlo, the fon of Leth, is one of FingaPs mod famous heroes. He and three other men attended Gaul on his expedition to Tromathon. -B O I T H O N A : Monii^s fon. Her hair was loofe and difordered : her lo¥eiy eye rolled deep in tears^ Blood ftained her fnowy arm. The robe half hid the wound of her bread. She ilood over the chief, and her voice was feebly heard. ^^' Sleeps the [on of Morni, he that was lovely in the eyes ofOithona? Sleeps Gaul at the diftant rock, and the daughter of Nuath low ? The fea rolls round the dark ifle of Tromathon. I fit in my tears in the cave ! Nor do I fit alone, O Gaul : the dark chief of Cuthal is there. He is there in the rage of his love. What can Oithona do ?'* A ROUGHER blafl ruilied through the oak. The dream of night departed. Gaul took his afpen fpear. He flood in the rage of his foul. Often did his eyes turn to the eafl. He accufed the lagging light. At length the morn- ing came forth. The hero lifted up the fail. The winds came ruftling from the hill ; he bounded on the waves of the deep. On the third day arofe Tromathon *, like a blue fhield in the midft of the fea. The white wave roared againfl its rocks ; fad Oithona fat on the coaft 1 She look- ed on the rolling waters, and her tears came down. But when file faw Gaul in his arms, flie ftarted and turned her eyes away. Her lovely cheek is bent and red ; her white smi trembles by her fide. Thrice flie ftrove to fly from his prefence ; thrice her fleps failed her as fhe went ! *' Daughter of Nuath," faid the hero, " why dofh thou fly from Gaul ? Do my eyes fend forth the llame of death ? Darkens hatred in my foul ? Thou art to me the beam of the eall, rifing in a land unknown. But thou covereft thy face with fadnefs, daughter of car-borne Nu'ith ! Is the foe of Oithona near ? My foul burns to meet him in fight. The fword trembles by the fide of Gaul, and longs to glitter in his hand. Speak, daughter of Nuath, dofl thou not behold my tears ?'* '^ Young chief of Strumon," replied the maid, " why comeft thou over the dark-blue wave, to Nuath *s mourn- ful daughter ? Why did I not pafs av/ay In fecret, like the flower of the rock, that lifts its fair head unfeen, and flrews its withered leaves on the blafl ? Why didfl thou come, O Gaul, to hear my departing figh ? I vanilh in my * Tiom-thon, heavy or deep-founding wave-. A P O E M. 79 my youth ; my name fliall not be heard. Or it will be heard with grief: the tears of Nuath muft fall. Thou v/ik be fad, fon of Morni, for the departed fame of Oithona* But fhe fhall lleep in the narrow tomb, far from the voice of the mourner. Why didft thou come, chief of Strumon^ to the fea-beat rocks of Tromathon ?" "I CAME to meet thy foes, daughter of car-borne- Nuath ! The death of CuthaFs chief darkens before me ; or Morni's fon fhall fall ! Oithona ! when Gaul is low, raife my tomb on that oozy rock. When the dark-bound- ing fliip fhall pafs, call the fons of the fea ! call them, and give this fword, to bear it hence to Morni's hall. The grey-haired chief will then ceafe to look towards the de- fart, for the return of his fon !'* '• Shall the daughter of Nuath live ?" fhe replied wltll a burfting figh. " Shall I live in Tromathon, and the fon of Morni low ? My heart is not of that rock ; nor my foul carelefs as that fea ; which lifts its blue waves to every wind, and rolls beneath the florm ! The biafl which fhall lay thee low, fhali fpread the branches of Oithona on earth. We fhall wither together, fon of car-borne Morni ! The narrow houfe is pleafant to me, and the grey ftone of the dead : for never more will I leave thy rocks, O fea- furrounded Tromathon !— — Night * came on with her clouds, after the departure of Lathmon, when he went to the wars of his fathers, to the mofs-covered rock of Duthormoth. Night came on. I fat in the hall, at the beam of the oak ! The wind was abroad in the trees. I heard the found of arms. Joy rofe in my face. I thought of thy return. It was the chief of Cuthal, the red-haired ftrength of Dunrommath. His eyes rolled in fire : the blood of my people was on his fword. They who defend- ed Oithona fell by the gloomy chief! What could I do? My arm was weak. I could not lift the fpear. He took me in my grief, amidft my tears he raifed the fail. He feared the returning Lathmon, the brother of unhappy Oithona ! — — But, behold, he comes with his people ! the dark wave is divided before him ! Whither wilt thou turn thy * Olthoia relates how Ihc w^ carried away by Dunronimath, ' So O I T H O N A : thy fteps, foil of Morni ? Many are the warriors of thy foe !" " My fleps never turned from battle," Gaul faid, and uniheathed his fword. " Shall I then begin to fear, Oi- thona, when thy foes are near ? Go to thy cave, my love, till our battle ceafe on the held. Son of Leth, bring the bows of our fathers ! the founding quiver of Morni ! Let our three warriors bend the yew. Ourfelves will lift the fpear. They are an hofl on the rock ! our fouls are ftrong in war !'* OiTHONA went to the cave. A troubled joy rofe on her mind, like the red path of lightning on a llormy cloud ! Her foul was refolved ; the tear was dried from her wildly- looking eye. Dunrommath llowly approached. He law the fon of Morni. Contempt contracted his iace ; a fmile is on his dark-brown cheek ; \\h red eye rolled, haif- conceal'd, beneath his Ihaggy brows ! •' Whence are the fons of the fea ?" begun the gloomy chief. " Have the winds driven you on the rocks of Tromathon ? Or come you in fearch of the white-handed maid ? The fons of the unhappy, ye feeble men, come to the hand of Dunrommath ! His eye fpares not the weak ; he delights in the blood of ftrangers. Oithona is a beam of light, and the chief of Cuthal enjoys it in fecret : wouidft thou come on its lovelinefs, like a cloud, fon of the feeble hand ! Thou mayil come ; but fhalt thou re- turn to the halls of thy fathers ?" " Doft thou not know me," faid Gaul, " red-haired chief of Cuthai ? Thy feet were fwift on the heath, in the battle of car-borne Lath- mon ; when the fword of Morni's fon purfued his hofi;, in Morven's woody land. Dunrommath ! thy words are mighty, for thy warriors gather behind thee. But do I fear them, fon of pride? I am not of the race of the feeble !'* Gx\UL advanced in his arms; Dunrommath fhrunk behind his people. But the fpear of Gaul pierced the gloomy chief; his fword lopped off his head, as it bended in death. The fon of Morni fliook it thrice by the lock ; the vv'arriors of Dunrommath fled. The arrows of Morven purfued them : ten fell on the moify rocks. The reft lift the founding fail, and bound on the troubled deep. Gaul advanced A P O E M. 81 advanced towards the cave of Olthona. He beheld a youth leaning on a rock. An arrow had pierced his fide; his eye rolled faintly beneath his helmet. The foul of Morni's fon was fad, he came and fpoke the words of peace. " Can the hand of Gaul heal thee, youth of the mourn- ful brow ? I have fearched for the herbs of the mountains; I have gathered them on the fecret banks of their itreams. My hand has clofed the wound of the brave, their eyes have bleifed the fon of Morni. Where dwelt thy fathers, warrior? Were they of the fons of the mighty? Sadnefs Ihall come, like night, on thy native dreams. Thou art fallen in thy youth !" '*^My fathers,'* replied the ftranger, " were of the race of the mighty ; but they fliall not be fad ; for my fame is departed like morning mift. High wails rife on the banks of Duvranna ; and fee their moify towers in the ftream ; a rock afcends behind them with its bending pines. Thou mayft behold it far diflant. There my brother dwells. He is renowned in battle: give him this glittering helm." The helmet fell from the hand of Gaul. It was the wounded Oithona! She had armed herfeif in the cave, and came in fearch of death. Her heavy eyes are half clofed ; the blood pours from her heaving fide. " Son of Morni," fhe faid, " prepare the narrow tomb. Sleep grows, like darknefs, on my foul. The eyes of Oithona are dim ! O had I dwelt at Duvranna, in the bright beam of my fame ! then had my years come on with joy ; the virgins would then blefs my fteps. But I fall in youth, fon of Morni ; my father fhail blulh in his hall !'* She fell pale on the rock of Tromathon. The m.ournfuI warrior raifed her tomb. He came to Morven ; we faw the darknefs of his foul. OfTian took the Iiarp in the praife of Oithona. The brightnefs of the face of Gaul returned. But his figh rofe, at times, in the midft of his friends ; like blafts that ihake their unfrequent wings, sifter the ftormy winds are laid ! CROMA, R O A A P O E M. ARGUMENT, MALVINA die daughter of Tofcai is ov>erhearcl by OfTian lamenting the death of Ofcar her lover. Ofiian, to divert her grief, relates his own aSions in an expedition, which he undertook, at Fingal's command, to aid Crothar the petty- king of Croma, a country in Ireland, againft Rothmar, who invaded his domi- nions. The flory is delivered down thus in tradition. Crothar king of Croma being blind with age, and his fon too young for the field, Rothmar the chief of Tromlo refolved to avail himfelf of the opportunity offered of annexing the dominions of Crothar to his own. He accordingly marched into the country •fubjeft to Crothar, but which he held of Arth or Artho, who was, at the time, fupreme king of Ireland. Crothar being, on account of his age and blindnefs, unfit for aflion, fent for aid to Fingal king of Scotland; who ordered his fon Ofiian to the relief of Crothar. But before his arrival, Fovar-gormo, the fon of Crothar, attacking Rothmar, was {lain himfelf, and his forces totally defeated. Ofiian renewed the war; came to battle, killed R.othmar, and routed his army, Croma being thus delivered of its enemies, Ofiian returned to Scotland. R O M A : P O E M. " TT was the voice of my love ! feldom art thou In the X dreams of Malvina! Open your airy halls, O fathers of Tofcar of (hields ! Unfold the gates of your clouds : the fteps of Malvina are near. I have heard a voice in my dream. I feel the fluttering of my foul. Why didll thou come, O blaft, from the dark-rolling face of the lake ? Thy ruftling wing was in the tree ; the dream of Malvina fled. But flie beheld her love, when his robe of mill flew on the wind. A fun-beam was on his fl^irts, they ghttered like the gold of the ftranger. It was the voice of my love ! feldom comes he to my dreams ! " But thou dwellell in the foul of Malvina, fon of mighty Oflian ! My fighs arife with the beam of the eaft; my tears defcend with the drops of night. I v/as a lovely tree, in thy prefence, Ofcar, with all my branches round me ; but thy death came like a blaft from the defart, and laid my green head low. The fpring returned with its fhowers; no leaf of mine arofe! The virgins faw me filent in the hall ; they touched the harp of joy. The tear was on the cheek of Malvina : the virgins beheld me in my grief. Why art thou fad, they faid ; thou firft of the maids of Lutha! Was he lovely as the beam of the morn- ing, and ftately in thy fight ?" Pleasant is thy fong in Ofllan's ear, daughter of ftreamy Lutha ! Thou hall heard the mufic of departed bards, in the dream of fhy reft, when fleep fell on thine eyes, at the murmur of Moruth*. When thou didft return from the chace, in the day of the fun, thou haft heard the mufic of bards, and thy fong is lovely ! It is lovely, O Malvina, but It melts the foul. There is a joy in grief when peace dwells in the breaft of the fad. But forrow waftes * Mor'-ruth, great Jlrcam, 86 C R O M A: wades the mournful, O daughter of Tofcar, and their days are few ! They fall away, like the flower on which the fun hath looked in his Itrength after the mildew has pafled over it, when its head is heavy with the drops of night. Attend to the tale of OfTian, O maid. He remem- bers the days of his youth ! The king commanded ; I raifed my fails, and ruflied into the bay of Croma ; into Croma's founding bay, in lovely Inisfail*. High on the coaft arofe the towers of Crothar king of fpears ; Crothar renowned in the battles of his youth ; but age dwelt then around the ch^ef. Rolh- mar had raifed the fword ap;ainil the hero ; and the wrath of Fingal burned. He feni; Offian to meet RotLraar In war, for the chief of Croma was the friei.d of his youth. I fent the bard before me with fongs. I Ccime into the hail of Crothar. There fat the chief ariidil the arm.s of his fathers, but his eyes had failed. His grey locks waved around a flaff, on which the warrior leaned. He hummed the fong of other times, when the found of our arms reached his ears. Crothar ro^e, flretched his aged hand, and blelTed the fon of Fingal. " OssiAN," faid the hero, " the ftrength of Crothar's arm has failed. O could I lift the fword, as on the day that Fingal fought at Strutha ! He was the firit of men ! but Crothar had alfo his fame. The king of Morven praifed me ; he placed on my arm the boify fhield of Calthar, whom the king had flain in his wars. Doft thou not behold it on the wall, for Crothar*s eyes have failed ? Is thy ftrength like thy father's, Offian ? Let the aged feel thine arm !'* I GAVE my arm to the king; he felt it with his aged hands. The figh rofe in his breaft, and his tears came down. " Thou art ftrong, my fon," he faid, " but not like the king of Morven ! But who is like the hero among the mighty in war ! Let the feaft of my hall be fpread j and let my bards exalt the fong. Great is he that is with- in my walls, ye fons of echoing Croma !'* The feaft is fpread. The harp is heard ; and joy is in the hall. But it was joy covering a figh, that darkly dwelt in every breaft. It ! * hJsfaily one of the ancient names of Ireland, ! A P O E M. 87 It was like the faint beam of the moon fpread on a cloud in heaven. At length the mufic ceafed, and the aged king of C: oina ^poke ; he fpoke without a tear, but forrow Lwelled in the midft of his voice. " Son of Fingal ! behold'fl thou not the darknefs of Crothar's joy ? My foul was not fad at the feaft, when my people lived before me. I rejoiced in the preience of flran- gers, v/hen my fon flione in the hall. But, OfF-an, he is a beam that is departed. He left no ftreak of light behind. He is fal'en, fon of Fingal, in the wars of his father. Roihmar, the chief of grafly Tromlo, heard that thefc eyes had failed ; he heard that my arms were fixed in the hall, and the pride of his foul arofe ! He came to- wards Croma ; my people fell before him. I took my arms in my wrath ; but what could fightlefs Crothar do ? My fteps were unequal ; my grief was great. I wifhed for the days that were paft — Days ! wherein I fought ; and won in the field of blood. My fon returned from the chace, the fair-haired Fovar-gormo*. He had not lifted his fword in battle, for his arm was young. But the foul of the youth was great ; the fire of valour burnt in his eyes. He faw the difordered fteps of his father, and his figh arofe. " King of Croma," he faid, " is it becaufe thou haft no fon ; is it for the weaknefs of Fovar-gormo's arm that thy nghs arife ? I begin, my father, to feel my ftrength : I have drawn the fword of my youth ; and I have bent . the bow. Let me meet this Rothmar, with the fons of Croma : let me meet him, O my father ; I feel my burn- ing foul !'* And thou flialt meet him, I faid, fon of the fightlefs Crothar ! But let others advance before thee, that I may hear the tread of thy feet at thy return ; for my eyes behold thee not, fair-haired Fovar-gormo ! He went j I'e met the foe; he fell. Rothmar advances to Croma. He v/no flew my fon is near, with all his pointed fpears." This is no time to fill the fliell, I replied, and took my f; eir ! My people faw the fire of my eyes ; they all arole arourd. I'hrough night v/e ftrode along the heath. Grey iroioiiig rcle in the eaft. A green narrow vale appeared belorc us -, nor wanting was its winding ftream. The dark * Faobhar-^^oim, cke Mu^. (w'nt of fuel. 88 C R O M A: dark boil of Rothmar are on its banks, with all their glittering arms. We fought along the vale. They fled. Rothmar funk beneath my Iword ! Day had not defcend- cd in the weft, when I brought his arms to Crothar. The aged hero felt them with his hands, and joy brightened over all his thoughts. The people gather to the hall. ,The fliells of the feaft are heard. Ten harps are ftrung ; five bards advance, and fmg, by turns*, the praife of Offian ; they poured forth * Thofe extempore compofitions were in great repute among fucceeding bards. The pieces extant of that kind fhew more of the good ear, than of the poetical genius of their authors. The traiifiator has only met with one poem of this fort, which he thinks worthy of being preferved. It is a ihoufand years later than Offian, but the authors feem to have obferved his manner, and adopted fome of his expreffions. The flory of it is this. Five bards, paffing the night in the houfe of a chief, who was a poet himfelf, went feverally to make their obiervations on, and returned with an extempore defcription of, night. The night happened to be one in Oftober, as appeals i^iom the poem, and in the north of Scotland, it has all that variety which the bards afcribe to it, in their defcriptions, FIRST BARD. NIGHT is dull and dark. The clouds reft on the hills. No flar with green trembling beam ; no moon looks from the Ikv. I hear the blaft in the wood > but I hear it diftant far. The ftreani of tiie valley murmurs ; but its murmur is ful- len and fad. From the tree at ihe grave of the dead the long-howling owl is heard. I fee a dim form on the plain 1 It is a ghoft ! it fades, it flies. Some fu- neral Ihall pafs this way ; the meteor marks the path. The diftant dog is howling from the hut of the hill. The flag lies on the mountain mofs: the hind is at his fide. She hears the wind in his branchy horns. She ftarts, but lies again. The roc is in the cleft of the rock; the heath-cock's head is beneath his wing. No beaft, no bird is abroad, but the owl and the howling fox. She on a leaileis tree : he in a cloud on the hill. Dark, panting, trembling, fad the traveller has loft his way. Through fhrubs, through thorns, he goes, along the gurgling rill. He fears the rock and the fen. He fears the gholl of night. The old tree groans to the blsft ; the falling branch refounds. .The wind drives the withered burs, clung together, along the graf». It ■is the light tread of a ghoft ! He trembles amidft the night. Dark, dulky, howling is night, cloudy, windy, and full of ghofls ! The dead are ;ibroad I my friends, receive me from the night. SECOND BARD. The wind is up. The (liower defcends. The fpirit of the mountain flirieks. Woods fall from high. Windows flap. The growing rivers roar. The traveller attempts the ford. Hark that fliriek ! he dies : The ftorm drives the horfe from the hill, the goat, the lowing cow. They tremble as drives the ftiower, befide the niouldciing bank, • The hunter ftarts from fleep, in his lonely hut; he wakes the fire decayed. His wet do_^s fmoke around him. He fills ihe chinks with heath. Loud roar two mountain ihcams which meet befide his booth. Sad A P O E M; Sg forth their burning fouls, and the firing anfwered to their voice. The joy of Croma was great : for peace returned to the land. The night came on with filence ; the morn- ino- returned with joy. No foe came in darknefs, with M his Sad on the fide of a hl!l the wandering flicpherd fits. The tree refounds above him. The Iheam roars down the rock. He waits for the rifing moon to guide him to his home. Ghofls ride on the fiorm to-night. Sweet is their voice between the fqualls of wind. Their fongs are of other worlds. The rain is part. The dry wind blows. Streams roar, and windows flap. 'Cold drops fall from the roof. I fee the ftarry fky. But the fliower gathers again. The weit is gloomy and dark. Night is flormy and difmal; receive me, my friends, from night. THIRD BARD. The wind ftill founds befween the hills ; and whifllcs through the grafs of the rock. The firs fall from their place. The turfy hut is torn. The clouds, divi- ded, fly over the fky, and fliew the burning flars. The meteor, token of death I flics fparkling through the gloom. It refts on the hill. 1 fee the withered fern, the dark-browed rock, the fallen oak. Who is that in his flirowd beneath the tree, by the ftream ? The waves dark-tumble on the lake, and lafli its locky fides. The boat is brim- full in the cove ; the oars on the rocking tide. A maid fits fad befide the rock, and eyes the rolling ftream. Her lover promifed to come. She faw his boat, when yec it was light, on the lake. Is this his broken boat on the fhoie? Are thefe his groans on the wind ? Hark! the hail rattles around. The fiakv fnow defcends. The tops of the hilli are white. The flormy winds abate. Various is the night and cold ; receive me, my friends, from night. FOURTH BARD. Night is calm and fair: blue, ftarry, fettled is night. The winds, with the clouds, are gone. They fink behind the hill. The moon is up on the mountain. Trees gliPrer: flieams fliine on the rock. Bright rolls the fettled lake; bright the flream of the vale. I fee the trees overturned ; the fliocks of corn on the plain. The wakeful hind rebuilds the fliocks, and whiflles on the diftant field. Calm, fettled, fair is night I Who comes from the place of the dead? That form with the robe of fnow ; white arms and dark-brown hair ! It is the daughter of the chief of the people : flic that lately fell ! Come, let us view thee, O mardi thou that hafl: been the delight of heroes ! The blafl. drives the phantom away ; white, \yiihout form, it afcends the hill. The breezes drive the blue mift flowly over the narrow vale. It rifes on the hill, and joins its head to heaven. Night is fettled, calm, blue, flany, bright witU the moon. Receive me not, my friends, for lovely is the night, FIFTH BARD. Night IS calm, but dreary. The moon is in a cloud jnthe wefl. Slow moves that pale beam along the fliaded hill. The diftant wave is heard. The torrent murmurs on the rock. The cock is heard from the booth. More than half the nioht is pad. The houfe-wife, groping in the gloom, rekindles the fettled fire. The hunter thinks that day approaches, and calls his bounding do our halls. Then l^t the bow be at hand, the dogs, the youths of the chacc. We fliall afcend the hill with day, and awake the deer. CALTHON CALTHON AND COLM AL : A POEM, ARGUMENT. THIS piece, as many more of OiTian's compofitions, is addieffed to one of the fiiR Chriftian miflionaries. The ftory of the poem is handed down, by tradition, thus. In the country of the Britons between the walls, two chiefs lived in the days of Fingal, Dunthalmo, lord of Teutha, fuppofed to be the Tweed; and Rathmor, who dwelt at Clutha, well known to be the river Clyde, Rathmor was not more renowned for his generofity and hofpitality, than Dunthalmo was , infamous for his cruelty and ambition. Dunthalmo, through envy, or on account offome private feuds, which fublifted between the families, murdered Rathmor at a feaft; but being afterwards touched with lemorfe, he educated the two fons of Rathraor, Calthon and Colmar, in his own houle. They growing up to man's eflate, dropped forae hints that they intended to revenge the death of their father, upon which Dunthalmo {liut>them up in two caves on the banks of Teu- tha, intending to take them off privately. Colmal, the daughter of Dunthalmo, who wasfecretly in love with Calthon, helped him to make his efcape from pri- son, and fled with him to Fingal, difguifed in the habit of a young warrior, and implored his aid againft Dunthalmo. Fingal fent OiTian with three hundred men, to Colmar's relief. Dunthalmo having previoufly murdered Colmar, came to a battle with Offian; but he was killed by that hero, and his army totally defeated. Calthon married Colmal, his deliverer: and Offian returned to Movvcn, CALTHON AND COLMAL: P O E M. PLEASANT is the voice of thy fong, thou loiieiy dweller of the rock. It comes on the found of the dream, along the narrow vale. My foul awakes, O flran- ger ! in the midft of my hall. I ftretch my hand to the fpear, as in the days of other years. I ftretch my hand, but it is feeble ; and the figh of my bofom grows. Wilt thou not nilen, fon of the rock, to the fong of Offian ? My foul is full of other times ; the joy of my youth re- turns. Thus the fun appears in the weft, after the fteps of his brightnefs have moved behind' a itorm : the green hills lift their dewy heads ; the blue ftreams rejoice in the vale. The aged hero comes forth on his ftaft; his grey hair glitters in the beam. Doft thou not behold, fon of the rock, a Ihield in Oflian's hall ^ It is marked with the ftrokes of battle ; and the brightnefs of its bofles has failed. That ftiield the great Dunthalmo bore, the chief of ftreamy Teutha. Dunthalmo bore it in battle, before he fell by Offian's fpear. Liften, fon of the rock, to the tale of other years ! Rathmor was a chief of Glutha. The feeble dwelt in his hall. The gates of Rathmor v/ere never ftiut ; his feaft was already fpread. The fons of the ftranger came. They bleffed the generous chief of Clutha. Bards raifed the fong, and touched the harp : joy brightened on the face of the fad ! Dunthalmo came, in his pride, and rufli- ed into the combat of Rathmor. The chief of Clutha overcame: the rage of Dunthalmo rofe. He camxe, by night, with his warriors ; the mighty R.athmor fell. He fell in his halls, where his feaft was often fpread for ftran- gers. CoLMAR and Calthon v;ere young, the fons of car-borne Rathmor. They came, in the joy of youth, into their fa- ther's 94 CALTHON AND COLMAL ther's hall. They behold him in his blood ; their burfling tears defcend. The foul of Dunthalmo melted, when he faw the children of youth. He brought them to Alteu- tha's* wails ; they grew in the houfe of their foe. They bent the bow in his prefence ; and came forth to his wars. They faw the fallen walls of their fathers ; they faw the green thorn in the hall. Their tears ruflied forth in fe- cret. At times, their faces were fad. Dunthalmo beheld their grief : his darkening foul defigned their death. He clofed them in two caves, on the echoing banks of Teutha. The fun did not come there with his beams ; nor the moon of heaven by night. The fons of Rathmor remain- ed in darknefs, and forefaw their death. The daughter of Dunthalmo v/ept in filence, the fair- haired, blue-eyed Colmalf. Her eye had rolled in fecret on Calthon ; his lovelinefs fwelled in her foul. Shetrem- bled for her warrior ; but what could Colmal do ? Her arm could not lift the fpear ; nor was the fword formed for her fide. Her white breaft never rofe beneath a mail. Neither v^^as her eye the terror of heroes. What canfL thou do, O Colmal ! for the falling chief ? Her fteps are unequal ; her hair is loofe : her eye looks wildly through her tears. She came, by night, to the hall||. She armed her lovely form in fteel ; the fteel of a young warrior, who fell in the firft of his battles. She came to the cave of Calthon, and loofed the thong from his hands. " Arise, fon of Rathmor," fhe faid, " arife, the night is dark ! Let us fly to the king of Selma§, chief of fallen Clutha ! I am the fon of Lamgal, who dwelt in thy fa- ther's hall. I heard of thy dark dwelling in the cave, and my foul arofe. Arife, fon of Rathmor, arife, the night is dark !" * Al-teutha, or rather Balteutha, the towv of Tweed, the name of Dunthalmo's feat. It is obfervable that all the names in this poem, are derived from the Galic ■ language ; which is a proof that it was once the univeifal laaguage of the whole ifland. f Caol-inhal, a woman with fmall eye-brows; fmall eye-brows were a diflin- guifhing part of beauty in Offian's time : and he feldom fails to give them to the fine women of his poems. II That is, the hall where the arms taken from enemies were hung up as trophies. Oflian is very careful to make his ftories probable : he makes Colmal put on the arms of a youth killed in his firft battle, as more proper for a young woman, who cannot bt; fuppofed ftrong enough to carry the armour of a full-grown warrior, ^ Fingal. A POEM. 95 dark 1" " Bleft voice," replied the chief, " comejfl thou from the clouds to Calthon ? The ghofls of his fathers have often defcended in his dreams, fmce the fun has retired from his eyes, and darknefs has dwelt around him. Or art thou the fon of Lamgai, the chief I often faw in Ciu- tha ? But, fliall I fly to Fingal, and Colmar my brother low ? Will I fly to Morven, and the hero clofed in night ? No : give me that fpear, fon of Lamgai j Calthon will defend his brother !" " A THOUSAND warriors," replied the maid, " flretch their fpears round car-borne Colmar. What can Calthon do againft a hofl; fo great ? Let us fly to the king of Mor- ven: he will come with war. His arm is (tretched forth to the unhappy ; the lightning of his fword is round the weak. Arife, thou fon of Rathmor; the fhadows will fly away. Arife, or thy fteps may be feen, and thou mult fall in youth !" The fighing hero rofe; his tears defcend for car-borne Colmar. He came with the maid to Selma's hall; but he knew not that it was Colmal. The helmet covered her lovely face. Her bofom heaved beneath the fl:eel. Fingal returned from the chace, and found the lovely llrangers. They were like two beams of light, in the midfl; of the hall of fliells. The king heard the tale of grief; and turned his eyes around. A thoufand heroes half-rofe be- fore him ; claiming the war of Teutha. I came with my fpear from the hill ; the joy of battle rofe in my brcaft : for the king fpoke to Ofliian in the midfl: of a thoufand chiefs. " Son of my ilrength," began -the king, " take thou the fpear of Fingal. Go to Teutha's rufliing fl:ream, and fave the car-borne Colmar. Let thy fame return before thee like a pleafant gale ; that my foul may rejoice over my fon, who renews the renown of our fathers. Offian! be thou a ftorm in war ; but mild when the foe is lov/ ! It was thus my fame arofe^ O my fon ; be thou like Sel- ma's chief. When the haughty come to my halls, my evcs behold them not. But my arm is ftretched forth to the unhappy. My fword defends the weak." I R5J0IC£i.f 9^ CALTHON AND COLMAL I REJOICED in the words of the king. I took my rat- . tling arms. Diaran * rofe at my fide, and Dargo | king of fpears. Three hundred youths followed our fteps : the lovely ilrangers were at my fide. Dunthalmo heard the found of our approach. He gathered the ilrength of Teu- tha. He flood on a hill with his hoft. They were like rocks broken with thunder, when their bent trees are fmoed and bare, and the fcreams of their chinks have fail- ed. The ftream of Teutha rolled, in its pride, before the gloomy foe. I fent a bard to Dunthalmo, to offer the combat on the plain; but he fmiled in the darknefs of his pride. His unfettled hofl moved on the hill ; like the mountain-cloud, when the blaft has entered its womb, and fcatters the curling gloom on every fide. They brought Colmar to Teutha's bank, bound with a thoufand thongs. The chief is fad, but flately. His eye is on his friends ; for we flood, in our arms, whilfl Teu- tha's waters rolled between. Dunthalmo came with his fpear, and pierced the hero's fide : he rolled on the bank in his blood. We heard his broken fighs. Calthon rulii- ed * Diaran, father of that Connal who was unfortunately killed by Crimora, his mi ft re is. f Dargo, the fon of Collath, is celebrated in other poems by Oflian. Ke is faid fo liave been killed by a boar at a hunting party. The lamentation of his mifirefs, or wife, Mingala, over his body is extant; but whether it is of OiTian's compofiti- nn, 1 cannot determine. It is generally afcribed to him, and has much of his man- ner; but forae traditions mention it as an imitation by fome, later bard. As it has fume Dot'tical meru, I have fubjoined it. *■ 4 ■'HE ipoufe of Dargo comes in tears: for Dargo is no more! The heroes figii A. over Lartho's chief: and what fliali fad Mingala do? The dark foul vaniflied like morning mill, before the king of fpears : but the generous glowed m his pre- fence like the morning ftar. Who was the faireft and mod lovely? Who but Goliath's (lately fon? Who fat in t;he midft of the wife, but Dar,so of mighty deeds ? Thy hand touched the trembling harp : Thv voice was foft as fummer-winds. Ah me ! what Ihall the heroes fay ? for Dargo fell before a bOar. Pale is thy love- ly cheek; the look of which was firm in danger! Why hart thou failed on our hiil,>, ihou fairer than the beams of the fun ? The daughter of Adonfion was lovely in the eyes of the valiant; fhc waS lovely in their eyes, but Ihe chqfe to be the fpoufe of Dargo, )5ut thou art alone, Mingala ! the night is coming with its clouds : where is the Led ot thy repofe ? Where, but in the tomb of Dargo ? Vi'hv doil thou lift the fionc, O bard! Why do(i thou fluU the narrow houfe? ^lingala's eyes are heavy, bard ! She mart fleep with Dargo. Lad night I heard the fong of joy in Lartho's lofty hall. But filence dwelt around mv bed. Minu;ala rcih with Dargo, A P O E M. 97 ed into the flream : I bounded forward on my fpear- Teutha's race fell before us. Night came rolling down. Dunthalmo refted on a rock, amidft an aged wood. The rape of his bofom burned againft the car-borne Calthon. But Calthon flood in his grief : he mourned the fallen Colmar ; Colmar llain in youth, before his fame arofe ! I BADE the fong of woe to rife, to footh the mournful chief ; but he flood beneath a tree, and often threw his fpear on earth. The humid eye of Colmal rolled near in a fecret tear : flie forefaw the fall of Dunthalmo, or of Clutha's warlike chief. Now half the night had paffed away. Silence and darknefs were on the field. Sleep refled on the eyes of the heroes : Calthon's fettling foul was flill. His eyes were half-clofed j but the murmur of Teutha had not yet failed in his ear. Pale, and fliewing his wounds, the ghofl of Colmar came : he bent his head over the hero, and raifed his feeble voice ! " Sleeps the fon of Rathmor in his night, and his bro- ther low? Did we not rife to the chace together? Purfued we not the dark-brown hinds? Colmar v/as not forgot till he fell; till death had blafled his youth. I lie pale beneath the rock of Lona. O let Calthon rife ! the morning comes with its beams ; Dunthalmo will diflionour the fallen." He pafl'ed away in his blafl. The rifmg Calthon faw the Heps of his departure. He ruflied in the found of his fleel. Unhappy Colmal rofe. She followed her hero through night, and dragged her fpear behind. But when Calthon came to Lona's rock, he found his fallen brother. The rage of his bofom rofe ; he ruflied among the foe. The groans of death afcend. They clofe around the chief,- He is bound in the midfl, and brought to gloomy Dun- thalmo. The fnout of joy arofe j and the hills of night replied. I STARTED at the found ; and took my father's fpear. Diaran rofe at my fide; and the youthful flrength of Dargo> We miffed the chief of Clutha, and our fouls were fad, I dreaded the departure of my fame. The pride of my va- lour rofe ! " Sons of Pvlorven," I faid, " it is not thus our fathers fought. They refled not on the field of ftrangers, when the foe was not fallen before them. Their ftrength N v/a? 98 CALTHON and COLMAL. was like the eagles of heaven; their renown is in the fong. But our people fall by degrees. Our fame begins to de- part. What fhall the king of Morven fay, if Oihan con- quers not at Teutha ? Rife in your fteel, ye warriors ; follow the found of Offian's courfe. He will not return, but renowned, to the echoing walls of Seima." Morning rofe on the blue waters of Teutha. Colmal flood before me in tears. She told of the chief of Clutha: thrice the fpear fell from her hand. My wrath turned againll the ftranger ; for my foul trembled for Calthon. " Son of the feeble hand," I faid, " do Teutha's warriors fi^ht with tears? The battle is not won with grief; nor dwells the figh in the foul of war. Go to the deer of Carmun, to the lowing herds of Teutha. But leave thefe arms, thou fon of fear. A warrior may lift them in fight. '^ I TORE the mail from her fhoulders. Her fnowy breaft appeared. She bent her blufliing face to the ground. I looked in filence to the chiefs. The fpear fell from my hand ; the figh of my bofom rofe ! But when I heard the name of the maid, my crowding tears rufhed down. I bleifed the lovely beam of youth, and bade the battle move ! Why, fon of the rock, fhould OfEan tell how Teutha's warriors died ? They are now forgot in their land ; their tombs are not found on the heath. Years came on with their florms. The green mounds are mouldered away. Scarce is the grave of Dunthalmo feen, or the place where he fell by the fpear of Ofiian. Some grey warrior, half bliixd.with age, fitting by night at the flaming oak of the hall, .tells now my deeds to his fons, and the fall of the dark Dunthalmo. The faces of youth bend fidelong to- wards his voice. Surprize and joy burn in their eyes ! I found Calthon bound to an oak; my fword cut the thongs from his hands. I gave him the white-bofomcd Colmal. They dwelt in the halls of Teutha, THE THE A R OF C A R O S: POEM. ARGUMENT.^ CAROS is probably the noted ufurper Caraufius, by birth a Menapian, who af- fumed the purple in the year 284 : and, feizing on Britain, defeated the emperor Maximian Herculius in feveral naval engagements, which gives propriety to his being called in this poem the king ofjhips. He repaired Agricola's wall, in or- der to obftrufl the incurfions of the Caledonians; and when he was employed in that work, it appears he was attacked by a party under the command of Ofcar the fon of Oflian. This battle is the foundation of the prefent poem, which is addrefled to Malvina the dauo,hter of Tofcar. The war of CAROS P O E M. BRING, daughter of Tofcar, bring the harp ! the light of the fong rifes in Oilian's foul ! It is like the field, when darknefs covers the hills around, and the fha- dow grows flowly on the plain of the fun. I behold my fon, O Malvina, near the molTy rock of Crona*. But it is the mill of the defart, tinged with the beam of the weft ! Lovely is the mift that afl'umes the form of Ofcar 1 turn from it, ye winds, when ye roar on the fide of Ardven ! Who comes towards my fon, with the murmur of a fong ? His ftaff is in his hand, his grey hair loofe on the wind. Surly joy lightens his face. He often looks back to Caros. It is Ryno | of fongs, he that went to view the foe. " What does Caros king of fhips ?" faid the fon of the now mournful Offian ; " fpreads he the wings |j of his pride, bard of the times of old ?" " He fpreads them, Ofcar,'* replied the bard, " but it is behind his gathered heap§. He looks over his ftones with fear. He beholds thee terrible, as the ghoft of night, that rolls the wave to his fliips 1" " Go, thou firft of my bards," fays Ofcar, " take the fpear of Fingal. Fix a flame on its point. Shake it to the winds of heaven. Bid him, in fongs, to advance, and leave the roiling of his wave. Tell to Caros that I long for battle ; that my bow is weary of the chace of Cona. Tell him the mighty are not here ; and that my arm is young." He went with the murmur of fongs. Ofcar reared his voice on high. It reached his heroes on Ardven, like the noife * Crona is the name of a fmall ftream which runs into the Carron. t Ryno is often mentioned in the ancient poetry. He feems to have been a bard of the firft rank, in the days cf Fingal. II The Roman eagle. ^ Agricola's wall, which Caraufms repaired. 102 The war of CAROS: nolfe of a cave; when the fea of To^^orma rolls before it, and its trees meet the roarino; winds. They gather round my fon like the ftreams of the hill; when, after rain, they roll in the pride of their courfe. Ryno came to the mighty Caros. He ilruck his flaminoj fpear. " Come to the bat- tle of Ofcar, O thou that fitteit on the rolling of waves. Fingal is diflant far; he hears the fong of b^rds in Morven: the wind of his hall is in his hair. His terrible fpear is at his fide; his {hield that is like the darkened moon! Come to the battle of Ofcar ; the hero is alone !'■* He came net over the dreamy Ccjrun *. The bard re- turned with his fong. Grey night grov^^s dim on Crona. The feaft of fiiells is fpread. A hundred oaks burn to the wind ; faint light gleams ever the heath. The gboRs of Ardven pafs through the beam, and fliew their dim and diftant forms. Comala -f- is half unfeen on her meteor ; Hidalian is fullen and dim, like the darkened moon be- hind the mill of night. " Why art thou fad?" faid Ryno; for he alone beheld the chief. " Why art thou fad, Hidalian ? halt thcu not received thy fame ? The fongs of Offian have been heard ; thy ghoft has brightened in wind, when thou didft bend from thy cloud, to hear the fong of Morven's bard !'* " And do thine eyes," faid Ofcar, " behold the chief, like the dim meteor of night ? Say, Ryno, fay, how fell Hidalian, the renowned in the days of my fa- thers ? His name remains on the rocks of Cona. I have often feen the dreams of his hills !" Fingal, replied the bard, drove Hidalian from his wars. The king's foul was fad for Comala, and his eyes could not behold the chief. Lonely, fad along the heath he, fiowly, moved, with filent fteps. His arms hang dif- ordered on his fide. His hair flies loofe from his brow. The tear is in his down-call eyes; a figh half-filent in his breafl ! Three days he ftrayed unfeen, alone, before he cam.e to Lamor's halls : the moify halls of his fathers, at the * The river Carron. + This is the fcene of Comala's death, which is the fubjeft of the dramatic poem. The poet mentions her in this place, in order to introduce the fequel of Hidallan's ftory, who, on account of her death, had been expelied from the wars of Fingal. A P O E M. 103 the {Iream of Balva ** There Lamor fat alone beneath a tree ; for he had fent his people with Hidallan to war. The llream ran at his feet. His grey head reded on a ftaff. Sightlefs are his aged eyes. He hums the fong of other times. The noife of Hidallan's feet came to his ear: he knew the tread of his fon. " Is the fon of Lamor returned ; or is it the found of his ghoft? Haft thou fallen on the banks of Carun, fon of the aged Lamor ? Or, if I hear the found of Hidallan's feet ; where are the mighty in the war ? where are my people, Hidallan, that were wont to return with their echoing fliields? Have they fallen on the banks of Carun?'* " No : replied the fighing youtk ; the people of Lamot live. They are renowned in war, my father; but Hidallan is renowned no more. I muft fit alone on the banks of Balva, when the roar of the battle grows." " But thy fathers never fat alone," replied the rifing pride of Lamor. " They never fat alone on the banks of Balva, when the roar of battle rofe. Doft thou not behold that tomb ? My eyes difcern it not : there refts the noble Garmallon, who never fled from war ! Come, thou renown- ed in battle, he fays, come to thy father's tomb. How am I renowned, Garmallon ? my fon has fled from war 1" " King of the ftreamy Balva!" faid Hidalkn with a figh, " why doft thou torment my foul ? Lamor, I never fled. Fing:al was fad for Comala ; he denied his wars to Hidallan. Go to the grey ftreams of thy land, he faid : moulder like a leaflefs oak, which the winds have bent over Balva, never more to grow !" " And muft I hear," Lamor replied, " the lonely tread of Hidallan's feet ? When thoufands are renowned in bat- tle, fliall he bend over my grey ftreams ? Spirit of the noble Garmallon ! carry Lamor to his place: his eyes are dark ; his foul is fad ; his fon has loft his fame !" " Where," faid the youth, " ihall I fearchfor fame to gladden the foul cf Lamor ? From whence Ihali I return with renown, that the found of ray arms may be pleafsjit in * This is perhaps that fraall fiream flill retaining the natre cf Balva, %vhich runs thro'jah the romantic valley of Glentivar in Stirlingfliire. Balva fignifies a Jiioit Jircam; and Glentivar, the fequejlcred vale. I04 The WAR of CAROS : in his ear ? If I go to the chace of hinds, my name will not be heard. Lamor will not feel my dogs, with his hands, glad at my arrival from the hill. He will not enquire of his mountains, or of the dark-brown deer of his defarts !'* " I MUST fall," faid Lamor, " like a leaflefs oak : it grew on a rock ! it was overturned by the winds ! My ghoft will be feen on my hills, mournful for my young Hidallan. Will not ye, ye mills, as ye rife, hide him from my fight ? My fon ! go to Lamor's hall : there the arms of our fathers hang. Bring the fword of Garmallon ; he took it from a foe !" He went and brought the fword with all its fludded thongs. He gave it to his father. The grey-haired hero felt the point with his hand. " My fon ! lead me to Garmallon' s tomb : it rifes be- fide that ruftling tree. The long grafs is withered ; I hear the breezes whiftling there. A little fountain mur- murs near, and fends its water to Balva. There let me reft ; it is noon : the fun is on our fields !" He led him to Garmallon's tomb. Lamor pierced the fide of his fon. They lleep together : their ancient halls moulder away. Ghofls are feen there at noon : the valley is filent, and the people fliun the place of Lamor. " Mournful is thy tale," faid Ofcar, " fon of the times of old ! My foul fighs for Hidallan ; he fell in the days of his youth. He flies on the blafl of the defart, his wandering is in a foreign land. Sons of the echoing Morven ! draw near to the foes of Fingal. Send the night away in fongs ; watch the flrength of Caros. Ofcar goes to the people of other times ; to the fhades of filent Ardven ; where his fathers fit dim in their clouds, and behold the future war. And art thou there, Hidallan, like a half-extinguiilied meteor ? Come to my fight, in thy forrow, chief of the winding Balva 1" The heroes move with their fongs. Ofcar flowly afcends the hill. The meteors of night fat on the heath before him. A diflant torrent faintly roars. Unfrequent blafi:s rufli through aged oaks. The half-enlightened moon finks dim and red behind her hill. Feeble voices are heard on the heath. Ofcar drev/ his fword. « Come," A P O E M. 105 " Come," faid the hero, " O ye ghofls of my fathers 1 ye that fought againft the kings of the world ! Tell me the deeds of future times ; and your converfe in your caves ; when you talk together, and behold your fons in the fields of the brave." Trenmor came from his hill, at the voice of his niig-h- ty fon. A cloud, like the ileed of the ftranger, fupported his airy limbs. His robe is of the mill of Lano, that brings death to the people. His fword is a green meteor half- extinguiihed. His face is without form, and dark. He fighed thrice over the hero : thrice the winds of night roared around ! Many were his words to Ofcar ; but they only came by halves to our ears : they v/ere dark as the tales of other times, before the light of the fong arofe. He flowly vanifhed, like a mift that melts on the funny hill. It was then, O daughter of Toicar, my fon began firft to be fad. He forefaw the fall of his race. At times, he waS thoughtful and dark ; like the fun when he carries a cloud on his face, but again he looks forth from his darknefs on the green hills of Cona. Oscar paifed the night among his fathers, grey morn- ing met him on Carun's banks. A green vale furrounded a tomb which rofe in the times of old. Little hills lift their heads at a diltance ; and flretch their old trees to .-he wind. The warriors of Caros fat there, for they had palTed the dream by night. They appeared, like the trunks of aged pines, to the pale light of the morning. Ofcar ftood at the tomb, and raifed thrice his terrible voice. The rocking hills echoed around; the ftarting roes bound- ed away ; and the trembling ghofts of the dead fled, fhrieking on their clouds. So terrible was the voice of my fon, when he called his friends ! A THOUSAND fpears rofe around ; the people of Caros rofe. Why, daughter of Tofcar, why that tear ? My fon, though alone, is brave. Ofcar is like a beam of the ll^:y ; he turns around, and the people fall. His hand is the arm of a ghoft, when he itretches it from a cloud; the reft of his thin form is unfeen ; but the people die in, the vale! My fon beheld the approach of the foe; he ftood in the fileut darknefs of his ftrength. " Am ! alone, faid O Ofcar, io6 The WAR of CAROS. Ofcar, In the midfl of a thoufand foes ? Many a fpear is there! many a darkly-rolling eye ! Shall I fly to Ardven? But did my fathers ever fly ? The mark of their arm is in a thousand battles. Ofcar too fliall be renowned 1 Come, ye dim ghoits of my fathers, and behold my deeds in war ! I may fall ; but I will be renowned like the race of echoing Morven.'* He Itood, growing in his place, like a flood in a narrow vale! The battle came, but they fell: bloody was the fword of Ofcar ! The noife reached his people at Crona; they came like a hundred Itreams. The warriors of Caros fled ;' Ofcar remained like a rock left by the ebbing fea. Now dark and deep, with all his fl:eeds. Cares rolled his might along : the little fl:reams are loll in his courfe ; the earth is rocking round. Battle fpreads from v/ing to wing : ten | thouiand I'words gleam at once in the fi^y. But why ihould 1 Oflian fmg of battles? For never more ftiall my fteel fliine « in war. I remember the days of my youth with grief ; when I feel the weaknefs of my arm. Happy are they j who fell in their youth, in the midfl: of their renown! They ^ have not beheld the tombs of their friend ; or failed to bend the bow of their fl:rength. Happy art thou, O Ofcar, in the midll of thy rufliing blaft. Thou often goefl; to the fields of thy fame, where Caros fled from thy lifted fword. Darkness comes on my foul, O fair daughter of Tofcar : I behold not the form of my fon at Carun ; nor the figure of Ofcar on Crona. The rufliling winds have carried him far away ; and the heart of his father is fad. But lead me, O Malvina, to the found of my woods ; to the roar of my mountain llreams. Let the chace be heard on Cona ; let me think on the days of other years. And •bring me the harp, O maid, that I may touch it, when the light of my foul fiiall arife. Be thou near, to learn the fong; future times fliall hear of me! The fons of the feeble hereafter will lift the voice on Cona ; and looking up to the rocks, fay, " Here Oflian dwelt." They fiiall admire the chiefs of old, the race that are no more ! while we ride on our clouds, Malvina, on the wings of the roaring- winds. Our voices fhali be heard, at times, in the defart; We fnall fmg on the breeze of the rock. CATHLIN CATHLIN OF CLUTHA O E M. ARGUMENT. AN adJiefs to Malvlna, the daughter of Tofcar. The poet relates the arrival of Cathlin in Selma, to folicit aidagainft Duth-carmor of Cluba, who had_ killed Cathmol, for the fake of his daughter Lanul. Fingal declining to make a choice anaong his heroes, who were all claiming the command of the expedition; they retired each to his hill of ghcjls; to be determined by dreams. The fpirit of Tren- mor appears to Oflian and Ofcar ; they fail, from the bay of Carmona, and, on the fourth day, appear off the valley of Rath-col, in Inis-huna, where Duth- carmor had fixed his refidence. Oflian difpatches a "bard to Duth-carmor to de- mand battle. Night comes on. The diftrefs of Cathlin of Clutha. Oflian de- volves the command on Ofcar, who, apcording to the cuflom of the kings of Moiven, before battle, retired to a neighbouring hill. Upon the coming on of day, the battle joins. Ofcar and Duth-carmor meet. The latter falls. Ofcar carries the mail and helmet of Duth-carmor to Cathlin, who had retired from the field. Cathlin is difcovered to be the daughter of Cathmol, in difguife, who had been carried off, by force, by, and had made her efcape from, Duth-carmor. CATHLIN OF CLUTHA: OEM. */^OME, thou beam that art lonely, from watching V_>< in the night ! The fqually winds are around thee, from all their echoing hills. Red, over my hundred ftreams, are the hght-covered paths of the dead. They rejoice, on the eddying winds, in the feafon of night. Dwells there no joy in fong, white hand of the harps of Lutha ? Awake the voice of the firing ; roll my foul to me. It is a ftream that has failed. Malvina, pour the fong. I HEAR thee, from thy darknefs, in Selma, thou that watched, lonely by night! Why didfl thou withhold the fong from Offian's failing foul ? As the falling brook to the ear of the hunter, defcending from his llorm-covered hill ; in a fun beam rolls the echoing ftream ; he hears, and fhakes his dewy locks: fuch is the voice of Lutha, to the friend of the fpirits of heroes. My fwelling bofom beats high. I look back on the days that are paft. Come, thou beam that are lonely, from watching in the night ! In * The traditions, which accompany this poem, inform us, that it went, of old, under the name of Laoi-Oi-Lutha ; i. e. the hymn of the maid of Lutha. They pretend alfo to fix the time of its compofition, to the third year after the deaiii of Fingal ; that is, during the expedition of Fergus the fon of Fmgal, to the banks of Vifcha-duthon. In fupport of this opinion, the Highland fenachies have prefixed to this poem, an addrefs of Oflian, to Congal the young fon of Fergas, which I haye rejefted, as having no manner of connection with the refl of the piece. It has poetical merit; and, probably, it was the opening of fome of Offian's other poems, the' the bards injudicioufly transferred it to the piece now before us. CONGAL, fon of Fergus of Durath, thou light between thy locks, afcend to the rock of Selma, to the oak of the breaker of fliields. Look over the bofom of night, it is ftreaked with the red paths of the dead : look on the night of ghofls, and kindle, O Congal, thy foul. Be not, like the moon on a ftream, lonely in the midft of clouds : darknefs clofes around it : and the beam departs. Depart not, fon of Fergus, ere thou markeft the field with thy fword. Afcend to the rock of Selma J to the oak of the breaker of Ihields. 110 CATHLIN OF CLUTHA: In the echoing bay of Carmona * we faw, one day, the bounding fhip. On high, hung a broken ihield ; it was marked with wandering blood. Forward came a youth, in arms, and flretched his pointlefs fpear. Long, over hl's tearful eyes, hung loofe his difordered locks. Fingal gave the ihell of kings. The words of the ftranger arofe. " In his hall lies Cathmol of Clutha, by the winding of his own dark ftreams. Duth-carmor faw white-bofomed La- nulf, and pierced her father's fide. In the rufhy defart were my fteps. He fled in the feafon of night. Give thine aid to Cathlin to revenge his father. I fought thee not as a beam, in a land of clouds. Thou, like the fun, art known, king of echoing Selma !" Selma's king looked around. In his prefence, we rofe in arms. But who fnould lift the fliield .? for all had claim.ed the war. The night came down : we ftrode, in lilence, each to his hill of gholls ; that fpirits might de- fcen*d, in our dreams, to mark us for the field. We ftruck the fliield of the dead : we raifed the hum of fongs. We thrice called the ghofls of our fathers. We laid us down in dreams. Trenmor came, before my eyes, the tall form of other years ! His blue hofts were behind him in half- diftinguifhed rows. Scarce feen is their ftrife in mill, or their * Car-mona, l>ay of the dark brown hills, an arm of the fea, in the neighbourhood of Selma. In this paragraph are mentioned the fignals prefented to Fingal, by thofe who came to demand his aid. The fuppliants held, in one hand, a fhield covered with blood, and in the other, a broken fpear; the firft a fymbol of the death of their friends, the laft an emblem of their own helplcfs fi'uatlon. If the king chofe to grant fuccouis, which generally was the cafe, he reached to them the Jlidl of feafis, as a token of his hofpitality and friendly intentions towards them. It may not be difagrceable to the reader to lay here before him the ceremony of the Cran-tara, which was of a fimilar nature, and, till very lately, ufed in the Highlands. When the news of an enemy came to the refidence of the chief, he immediately killed a goat with his own fword, dipped the end of a half-burnt piece of wood in the blood, and gave it to one of his fervants, to be carried to the next hamlet. From hamlet to hamlet this tejera was carried with the utmoft expedition, and in the fpace of a few hours, the whole clan were in arms, and convened in an appointed place ; the name of which was the only word that accompanied the de- livery of the Cran-tara. This fymbol was the manifefto of the chief, by which he threatened fire and fword to thofe of his clan, that did not immediately appear at his flandard. + Lanul,/z that attend thy courfe. They give light in the night. I^ is not thus thou haft feen me, O Fingal, returning from the wars of thy land ; when the kings of the world * had fled, and joy returned to the hill of hinds !" " Many are thy words, Cuthullin," faid Con- Hf n I of fmall renown. " Thy words are many, fon of Semo, but where are thy deeds in arms ? Why did we come, over ocean, to aid thy feeble fword ? Thou flieft to thy cave o^ gnef, and Connan fights thy battles. Re- fjgn to me thefe arms of light. Yield them, thou chief of Erin!" " No hero," replied the chief, " ever fought the arms of Cuthullin ; and had a thoufand heroes fought them, it were in vain, thou gloomy youth ! I fled not to the cave of grief, till Erin failed at her ftreams." " Youth of the feeble arm," faid Fingal, " Connan, ceafe thy words ! Cuthullin is renowned in battle ; terri- ble over the world. Often have I heard thy fame, thou flormy chief of Inis-fail. Spread now thy white fails for the ifle of mift. See Bragela leaning on her rock. Her tender eye is in tears ; the winds lift her long hair from her heaving br^aft. She liftens to the breeze of night, to hear the voice of thy rbwers [j ; to hear the fong of the fea ! the found of thy difiiant harp !" " Long lliall flie liften in vain. Cuthullin lliall never return ! How can I behold Bragela, to raife the figh of her bread ? Fingal, I was always victorious, in battles of other fpears!" " And hereafter thou flialt be victorious," faid Fingal of generous fhells. " The fame of Cuthullin fliall grow, like the branchy tree of Cromla. Many bat- tles await thee, O chief! Many fhall be the wounds of thy * This is the only pafT.ige in the poem, wherein the wars of Fingal againll the Romans are alluded to: the Roman emperor is diftinguifhed in old compofitions by the title of /ling of the vjorld. t Connan was of the family of Morni. He is mentioned in feveral other poems, snd always appears in the fame chara£ler. The poet paffed him over in filenre till now, ana his beh<\ lOur heie deferves no better ufage. II Tne pr;iHice oF finging when tlicy row is univerfal among the inhabitants of the northwefl coaft of Scotland and the ifles. It deceives time, and infpirits the rowers. Book VI. An EPIC POEM. 205 thy hand ! Biing hither, Ofcar, the deer ! Prepare the feaft of fhells. Let our fouls rejoice after danger, and our friends delight in our prefence !" We fat. We feafted. We fung. The foul of Cuthul- lin rofe. The ftrength of his arm returned. Gladnefs brightened along his face. Ullin gave the fong ; Carril railed the voice. I joined the bards, and fung of battles of the fpear. Battles ! where I often fought. Now I fight no more ! The fame of my former deeds is ceafed. 1 lit forlorn at the tombs of my friends ! Thus the night pafled away in fong. We brought back the morning with joy. Fingal arofe on the heath, and Ihook his glittering fpear. He moved lirft toward the plains of Lena. We followed in all our arms. " Spread the fail," faid the king, '' feize the winds as they pour from Lena.'* We rofe on the wave with fongs. We rufhed, with joy, through the foam of the deep. ATHMON A T H M O N: P O E M. ARGUMENT. LATHMON, a Britini prince, taking advantage of Fingal's abfence on an expe- dition in Ireland, made a defcent on Morven, and advanced within fight of Sel- ma, the royal refidence. Fingal arrived in the mean time, and Lathmon re- treated to a hill, where his army was furprized by night, and himfelf taken pri- foner by OfTian and Gaul the fon of Morni. The poem opens with the firft appearance of Fingal on the coafl of Morven, and ends, it may be fuppofed> about noon tlie next day. L A T H M O N : P O E M. ELM A, thy halls are filent. There is no found in ihe woods of Morven. The wave tumbles alone on. the coaft. The filent beam of the fun is on the field. The daughters of Morven come forth, like the bow of the fhower ; they look towards green Erin for the white fails of the king. He had promifed to return, but the winds of the north arofe. Who pours from the eaftern hiJl, like a ftream of dark- nefs ? It is the hoft of Lathmon. He has heard of the abfence of Fingal. He trufls in the wind of the north : his foul brightens with joy. Why doft thou come, O Lathmon ? The mighty are not in Selma. Why comeft thou with thy forward fpear ? will the daughters of Mor- ven fight ? But ftop, O mighty ftream, in thy courfe I Does not Lathmon behold thefe fails ? Why dofl thou vanifli, Lathmon, like the mill of the lake ? But the fqually florm is behind thee : Fingal purfues thy fteps ! The king of Morven had ftarted from fleep, as we rolled on the dark-blue wave. He flretched his hand to his fpear ; his heroes rofe around. We knew that he had feen his fathers ; for they often defcended to his dreams, when the fword of the foe rofe over the land, and the battle darkened before us. " Whither hafl thou fled, O wind ?" faid the king of Morven. " Dofl thou ruftle in the chambers of the fouth ? Purfuefl thou the fliower ia other lands ? Why dofl thou not come to my fails ? to the blue face of my feas ? The foe is in the land of Mor- ven, and the king is abfent far. But let each bind on. his mail, and each affume his fliield. Stretch every fpear over the wave j let every fword be unflieathed. Lathmon * D d is * It is faid by tradition, that it was the intelligence of Lathmon's invafion, that occafioned Fmgal's return from Ir^aud; though Offian, more poetically, afcribea the caufe of Fingal's knowledge to his dre^m. 210 L A T H M O N is before us with his hod ; he that fled* from Fingal oil the plains of Lona. But he returns, like a coUeded ftream, and his roar is between our hills." Such were the words of Fingal. We ruflied into Car- mona's bay. OiTian afcended the hill. He thrice ftruck his bolTy fhield. The rocks of Morven replied ; the bounding roe£ came forth. The foe was troubled in my pyefence : he collefted his darkened hoft. I flood, like a cloud, on the hill, rejoicing in the arms of my youth. MoRNif fat beneath a tree, at the roaring waters of Strumon[|. His locks of age are grey : he leans forward on his ftaff. Young Gaul is near the hero, hearing the battles of his father. Often did he rife, in the fire of his foul, at the mighty deeds of Morni. The aged heard the found of OfTian's Ihield : he knew the fign of war. He ftarted at once from his place. His grey hair parted on his back. He remembered the deeds of other years. " My fon," he faid to the fair-haired Gaul, " I hear the found of war. The king of Morven is returned, his fignals are fpread on the wind. Go to the halls of Stru- mon ; bring his arms to Morni. Bring the fhield of my father's latter years, for my arm begins to fail. Take thou thy armour, O Gaul ; and ruili to the firfl of thy battles. Let thine arm reach to the renown of thy fathers. Be thy courfe, in the field, like the eagle's wing. Why fhouldft thou fear death, my fon ? The valiant fall with fame ; their fiiields turn the dark ftream of danger away ; renown dwells on their aged hairs. Doft thou not fee, O Gaul, how the fteps of my age are honoured ? Morni moves forth, and the young meet him with awe, and turn their eyes, with filent joy, on his courfe. But I never fled from danger, my fon ! my fword lightened through the darknefs of war. The ftranger melted before me j the mighty were blafted in my prefence." Gaul * He alludes to a battle wherein Fingal had defeated Lathvnon. t Morni was chief of a numerous tribe, in the davs of Fingal, and his father Comhal. The laft mentioned hero was killed in battle againfl Morni's tribe ; but the valour and conduft of Fingal reduced them, at lafl, to obedience. We find the two heroes perfeftly reconciled in this poem. ]1 Stru'-mone, fir cam of the hill. Here the proper name of a rivulet in the neighbourhood of Sclma, A P O E M. 21X Gaul brought the arms to Morni : the aged warrior is covered with fleel. He took the fpear in his hand, Tvhich was ftained with the blood of the valiant. He came towards Fingal ; his fon attended his fleps. The fon of Comhal arofe before him with joy, when he came in his locks of age. " Chief of roaring Strumon !" faid the rifmg foul of Fingal, " do I behold thee in arms, after thy ftrength has failed ? Often has Morni flione in fight, like the beam of the afcending fun ; when he difperfes the ftorms of the hill, and brings peace to the glittering fields. But why didft thou not reft in thine age ? Thy renown is in the fong. The people behold thee, and blefs the departure of mighty Morni. Why didft thou not reft in thine age? The foe will vanifli before Fingal!" " Son of Comhal," replied the chief, *' the ftrength of Morni's arm has failed. I attempt to draw the fv/ord of my youth, but it remains in its place. I throw the fpear, but it falls ftiort of the mark. I feel the weight of my fhield. We decay like the grafs of the hill : our ftrength returns no more. I have a fon, O Fingal : his foul has delighted in Morni's deeds ; but his fvv^ord has not been lifted againft a foe, neither has his fame begun. I come with him to war ; to direct his arm in fight. His renown will be a light to my foul, in the dark hour of my departure. O that the name of Morni were forgot among the people ! that the heroes would only fay. Behold the father of Gaul !" " King of Strumon," Fingal replied, " Gaul fliall lift the fword in fight. But he ftall lift it before Fingal; my arm fliali defend his youth. But reft thou in the halls of Selma ; and hear of our renown. Bid the harp to be ftfung, and the voice of the bard to arife ; that thofe who fall may rejoice in their fame; and the foul of Morni brighten with joy. Oftian ! thou haft fought in battles : the blood of ftrangers is on thy fpear: thy courfe be with Gaul, in the ftrife ; but depart not from the fide of Fin- gal ! left the foe ftiould find you alone, and your fame fall in my prefence." I SAW 212 L A T H M O N: I SAW* Gaul in his arms: my foul was mixed with his. The fire of the battle was in his eyes ! he looked to the foe with joy. We fpoke the words of friendfiiip in fecret : the lip;htnmg of our fwords poured together; for we drew them behind the wood, and tried the flrength of our arms on the empty air. Ntght came down on Morven. Fingal fat at the beam of tne oak. Morni fat by his fide, with all his grey wav- ing locks. Their words were of other times, of the migh- ty deeds of their fathers. Three bards, at times, touched the harp : U.iu was near with his fong. He fung of the mighty Comhal ; but darknefs gathered | on Morni's brow. He rolled his red eye on Ullin : at once ceafed the fong of the bard. Fingal obferved the aged hero, and he mildly fpoke. " Chief of Strumon, why that dark- nefs? Let the days of other years be forgot. Our fathers contended in war ; but we meet together at the feaft. Our fwords are turned on the foe of our land : he melts before us on the field. Let the days of our fathers be forgot, hero of molfy Strumon !" " King of Morven," replied the chief, " I remember thy father with joy. He was terrible in battle: the rage of the chief was deadly. My eyes were full of tears, when the king of heroes fell. The valiant fall, O Fingal ! the feeble remain on the hills ! How many heroes have palTed away, in the days of Morni ! Yet I did not fhun the battle; neither did I fly from the ftrife of the valiant. Now let the friends of Fingal refl ; for the night is around ; that they may rife, with flrength, to battle againfl car- torne Lathmon. I hear the found of his hofl, like thun- der moving on the hills. Ofiian ! and fair-haired Gaul ! ye are young and fwitt in the race ; obferve the foes of FingrJ from that woody hill. But approach them not ; your * Ofllan fpeaks. The contrad between tlie old and young heroes is ftrongly ■mailvid. The circumfiance of the latter's drawing their iwords is well imagined, and aevfcs with the ur.paticnce of young ioldiers, juft entered upon aftion. + Ui'.in had chofen ill the fuhject of his fong The darknefs wliicli gathered on ^ Morni' s brow, dia not proceed from any dillike he had to Comhal's name, though the y were foes, but fro'n his fear that the fong would awaken Fingal to a remem- brance of Mie i'eucis which had luhfifted of old between the families. Fingal's fpccch on this oGcalion abounds with generofity and good fenfe. A P O E M. 21^ your fathers are not near to fliield you. Let not your fame fall at once. The valour of youth may fail i" • We heard the words of the chief with joy. We moved in the clang of our arms. Our fteps are on the woody hill. Heaven burns with all its liars. The meteors of death fly over the field. The diftant noife of the foe reached our ears. It was then Gaul fpoke, in his valour : his hand half-unfheathed the iword. " Son of Fingal," he faid, " why burns the foul of Gaul ? My heart beats high ; my fteps are difordered ; my hand trembles on my fword. ^Vhen I look towards the foe, my foul lightens before me. I fee their fleeping hoft. Tremble thus the fouls of the valiant in battles of the fpear? How would the foul of Morni rife if we fliould rulli on the foe ! Our renown would grow in fong : our fteps would be ftately in the eyes of the brave," " Son of Morni," I rephed, " my foul delights in war. I delight to fhine in battle alone, to give my name to the bards. But what if the foe fliould prevail ? can I behold the eyes of the king? They are terrible in his difpleafure, and like the flames of death. But I will not behold them in his wrath ! OfTian fhail prevail or fall. But lliall the fame of the vanquiibed rife? They pafs like a fhade away. But the fame of Offian fhall rife i His deeds fliall be hke his fathers. Let us rufh in our arms, fon of Morni ; let us rufh to fight. Gaul ! if thou fliouldft return, go to Selma's lofty hall. Tell to Everallin that I fell with fame; carry this fword to Branno's daughter. Let her give it to Ofcar, when the years of his youth fliall arife." " Son of Fingal," Gaul replied with a figh ; " fliall I return after Offian is low ? What would my father fay ? what Fingal, the king of men ? The feeble would turn their eyes and fay, " Behold Gaul, who left his friend in his blood!" Ye fliall not behold me, ye feeble, but in the niidft of my renown. Oflian ! I have heard from my fa- ther the mighty deeds of heroes; their mighty deeds when alone ; for the foul increafes in danger." " Son of Morni," I replied, and ftrode before him on the heath, " our fathers fliall praife our valour vvhen they mourn our fall, A beam of gladnefs fliall rife on their fouls. 214 L A T H M O N: fouls, when their eyes are full of tears. They will fay, " Our fons have not fallen unknown : they fpread death around them." But why fhould we think of the narrow^ houfe ? The fword defends the brave : but death purfues the flight of the feeble ; their renown is never heard." We rulhed forward through night j we came to the roar of a ftream, which bent its blue courfe round the foe, through trees that echoed to its found. We came to the bank of the ftream, and faw the fleeping hoft. Their fires were decayed on the plain; the lonely fteps of their fcouts were diftant far. I ftretched my fpear before me to fup- port my fteps over the ftream. But Gaul took my hand, and fpoke the words of the brave : " Shall the fon of Fingal rufh on the fleeping foe? Shall he come like a blaft by night, when it overtures the young trees in fecret ? Fingal did not thus receive his fame, nor dwells renown on the grey hairs of Morni, for actions like thefe. Strike, Oilian, ftrike the Ihield, and let their thoufands rife. Let them meet Gaul in his firft battle, that he may try the ftrencrth of his arm." My foul rejoiced over the warrior : my burftmg tears came down. " And the foe fliall meet th^e, Gaul !" I faid: " the fame of Morni's fon fliall arife. But rufli not too far, my hero : let the gleam of thy fteel be near to Of- fian. Let our hands join in flaughter. Gaul ! doft thou not behold that rock ? Its grey fide dimly gleams to the ftars. Should the foe prevail, let our backs be towards the rock. Then ftiall they fear to approach our fpears ; for death is in our hands !" I STRUCK thrice my echoing fhield. The ftarting foe arofe. We ruflied on in the found of our arms. Their crouded fteps fly over the heath. They thought that the mighty Fingal was come. The ftrength of their arms withered away. The found of their flight was like that of flame, when it rufhes thro' the blafted groves. It was then the fpear of Gaul flew in its ftrength ; it was then his fword arofe. Cremor fell ; and mighty Leth. Dun- thormo ftruggled in his blood. The fteel ruflied through Crotho's fide, as bent, he rofe on his fpear ; the black ftream poured from the wound, and hiifed on the half- extinguifhed A P O E M. 215 (£?xtlngulfhed oak. Cathmin faw the fteps of the hero be- hind him, he afcended a blafted tree; but the fpear pierced him from behind. Shrieking, panting, he fell. Mofs and withered branches purfue his fall, and drew the blue arms of Gaul. Such were thy deeds, fon of Morni, in the firft of thy battles. — ^Nor flept thy fword by thy fide, thou lad of Fin- gal's race ! Offian rullied forward in his ftrength ; the people fell before him; as the grafs by the ftaff of the boy, when he whiftles along the field, and the grey beard of the thiftle fails. But carelefs the youth moves on ; his fteps are towards the defart. Grey morning rofe around us, the winding ftreams are bright along the heath. The foe gathered on a hill; and the rage of Lathmon rofe. He bent the red eye of his wrath: he is filent in his rifmg grief. He often ftruck his boffy fhield ; and his fteps are unequal on the heath. I faw the diftant darknefs of the hero, and I fpoke to Mor- ni's fon. " Car-borne chief of Strumo, doft thou behold the foe ? They gather on the hill in their wrath. Let our fteps be towards the king *. He ftiall rife in his ftrength, and the hoft of Lathmon vanilh. Our fame is around us, warrior ; the eyes of the agedf will rejoice. But let us fly, fon of Morni ; Lathmon defcend& the hill." " Then let our fteps be flow," replied the fair-haired Gaul, " left the foe fay, with a fmile, " Behold the warriors of night ! They are, like ghofts, terrible in darknefs ; they melt away before the beam of the eaft." Offian, take the fhield of Gormar, who fell beneath thy fpear. The aged heroes will rejoice, beholding the deeds of their fons." Such were our words on the plain, when Sulmath [} came to car-borne Lathmon : Sulmath chief of Dutha, at the dark-rolling ftream of Duvranna§. " Why doft thou not rufh, fon of Nuath, with a thoufand of thy heroes f Why ■* Fingal + Fingal and Morni. II Sull-mhath, a man of good eye-Jigkt , % Dubh-bhranna, dark vwunkiin-fneam. A river in Scotland, wh,ich falls int» the fea at Baftff, {lill retains the name of Duvran. If that is meant in this paffage, Lathmon maft have l^een a prince of the Pitlifh nation, or thofe Caledoni'dtis who inhabited of old the eaftern coall of Scotland. 2i6 L A T H M O Nr Why dofl: thou not defcend with thy hoft, before the war-* riors fly ? Their blue arms are beaming to the tiling light, and their fteps are before us on the heath !" " Son of the feeble hand," faid Lathmon, " Ihali my hoit defcend ! They are but two, fon of Dutha ; Ihall a thoufand lift their fteel! Nuath would mourn, in his hall, for the departure of his fame ; his eyes would turn from Lathmon, when the tread of his feet approached. Go thou to the heroes, chief of Dutha. I behold the Ilately fteps of Offian. His fame is worthy of my fteel !• — let us contend in fight." The noble Sulmath came. I rejoiced in the words of the king. I raifed the Ihield on my arm : Gaul placed in my hand the fword of Morni. We returned to the mur- muring ftream : Lathmon came down in his ftrength. His dark hoft rolled, like clouds, behind him ; but the fon of Nuath was bright in his fteel ! " Son of Fingal," faid the hero, " thy fame has grown on our fall. How many lie there of my people by thy hand, thou king of men ! Lift now thy fpear againft Lathmon. Lay the fon of Nuath low! lay him low among^ his warriors, or thou thyfelf muft fall ! It ftiall never be told in my halls, that my people fell in my prefence ; that they fell in the prefence of Lathmon, when his fword refted by his fide ! The blue eyes of Cutha would roll ia tears ; her fteps be lonely in the vales of Dunlathmon !" " Neither ftiall it be told," I replied, " that the fon of Fingal fled. Were his fteps covered with darknefs, yet Vv-ould not Ofllan fly ! His foul w^ould meet him and lay, " Does the bard of Selma fear the foe ?" No : he does not fear the foe : his joy is in the midft of battle !" Lathmon came on with his fpear. He pierced the ftiield of Ofllan. I felt the cold fteel by my fide. I drew the fword of Morni. I cut the fpear in twain : the bright point fell glittering on earth. The fon of Nuath burnt in his wrath. He lifted high his founding ftiield. His ilark eyes rolled above it, as, bending forward, it flione like a gate of brafs ! But Oflian's fpear pierced the bright- nefs of its bofles, and funk in a tree that rofe behind. The fliield hung on the quivering lance ! but Lathmon ftili A P O E M. 217 flill advanced ! Gaul forefaw the fall of the chief. He ftretched his buckler before my fword ; v/hen it defcend* ed, in a ftream of light, over the king of Dunlathmon ! Lathmon beheld the fon of Morni. The tear flarted from his eye. He threw the fword of his fathers on earth, and fpoke the words of the brave. " Why (hould Lath- man fight againft the firft of men ? Your fouls are beams from heaven ; your fwords, the flames of death ! Who can equal the renown of the heroes, whofe deeds are fo great in youth ? O that ye were in the halls of Nuath, in the green dwelling of Lathmon ! then would my father fay, that his fon did not yield to the weak ! But who comes, a mighty ftream, along the echoing heath ? The little hills are troubled before him ; a thoufand ghofts are on the beams of his fteel ; the ghofts of thofe who are to fall* by the arm of the king of refounding Morven. Hap- py art thou, O Fingal ; thy fons ftiall fight thy wars. They go forth before thee j they return with the fteps of their* renown !" Fingal came, in his mildnefs, rejoicing in-fecret over* the deeds of his fon. Morni's face brightened with gladnefs ; his aged eyes look faintly through tears of joy. We came to the halls of Selma. We fat around the feaft: of ftiells. The maids of fong came into our prefence, and the mildly- bluftiing Everallin ! Her hair fpreads on her neck of fnow ; her eye rolls in fecret on Ollian. She touched the harp of mufic 5 we bleffed the daughter of Branno ! Fingal rofe in his place, and fpoke to Lathmon king of fpears. The fword of Trenmor ftiook by his fide, as high he raifed his mighty arm. " Son of Nuath,'* he faid, " why doft thou fearch for fame in Morven ? We are not of the race of the feeble ; our fwords gleam not over the weak. When did we roufe thee, O Lathmon, with the found of war ? Fingal does not delight in battle, though his arm is ftrong ! My renown grows on the fall of the haughty. The light of my fteel pours on the proud in arms. The battle comes; and the tombs of the valiant E e rife 5 * It was thought, in Offian's time, that each perfon had his attending fpirit. The traditions concerning this opinion are dark and unfatisfaftoiy. 2i8 L A T H M O N. rife: the tombs of my people rife, O my fathers! I at laft mufl remain alone ! But I will remain renowned ; the de- parture of my foul fhall be a ftream of light. Lathmon! retire to thy place! Turn thy battles to other lands! The race of Morven are renowned j their foes are the fons of the unhappy 1" DAR-THULA: o ARGUMENT. IT may not be improper here, to give the flory which is the foundation of tliis poem, as it is handed down by tradition. Ufnoth lord of Etha, which is proba- bly that pa't of Argyl-fhire which is near Loch Eia, an arm of the fea in Lorn, had three fons, Nathos, Ahhos, and Ardan, by Sliflama, the daughter of Semo and fitter to the cclebiated Cuthullin. The three brothers, when very young, were fent over to Ireland, by their father, to learn the ufe of arms, under their uncle, Cuthullin, who made a great figure in that kingdom. They were juft landed in UHler when the news of Cuthullin's death arrived, Nathos, though very young, took the command of Cuthulhn's army, made head againft Cairbar the ufurper, and defeated him in feveral battles. Cairbar at laft having found means to murder Cormac the lawful king, the army of Nathos (hifted fides, and be himfelf was obHged to return into Ulfter, in order to pafs over into Scotland. J)ar-thula, the daughter of CoUa, with whom Cairbar was in love, refidcd, at that time, in Selama, a caflle in Ulfler : (he faw, fell in love, and fled with Nathos ; but a ftorm rifing at fea, they were unfortunately driven back on that part of the coaft of Ulfter, where Cairbar was encamped with his army. The three brothers, after having defended themfelves, for fome time, with great bravery, were ovei powered and flain, and the tinfortunate Dar-thula killed hcr- felf uDon the body of her beloved Nathos. The poem opens, on the ni,i;ht preceding the death of the fons of Ufnothi and brings in, by way of epifode, what paifed before. It relates the death ef Dar-thala differently from the common tradition ; this account is the moft pro- bable, as fuicide feems to have been unknown in thofe early times; for bo traces of it are found in the old poetry. DAR-THULA: POEM. DAUGHTER of heaven, fair art thou! the filence of thy face is pleafant ! Thou corned forth in love- linefs. The ftars attend thy blue courfe in the eafl. The clouds rejoice in thy prefence, O moon : they brighten their dark-brown fides. Who is like thee in heaven, light of the filent night? The ftars are afhamed in thy prefence. They turn away their fparkling eyes. Whither doft thou retire from, thy courfe, when the darkness of thy counte- nance grows ? Haft thou thy hall, like Offian ? Dwelleft thou in the fliadow of grief? Have thy fifters fallen from heaven ? Are they who rejoiced with thee, at night, no more ? Yes ! they have fallen, fair light ! and thou doft often retire to mourn. But thou thyfelf flialt fail, one night; and leave thy blue path in heaven. The ftars will then lift up their heads : they, who were afliamed in thy prefence, will rejoice. Thou art now clothed with thy brightnefs. Look from thy gates in the fky. Burft the cloud, O wind, that the daughter of night may look forth; that the ftiaggy mountains may brighten, and the ocean roll its white waves, in light ! Nathos * is on the deep, and Althos, that beam of youth. Ardan is near his brothers. They move in the gloom of their courfe ; the fons of Ufnoth move, in dark- nefs, from the wrath of Cairbar | of Erin. Who is that, dim, by their fide ? The night has covered her beauty ! Her hair fighs in ocean*s wind. Her robe ftreams in dufky wreaths. She is like the fair fpirit of heaven, in the * Nathos fignifies youthful, Althos, exquifite beauty, Ardan, pride. + Caiibar, who murdered Cormac kin^ oF Ireland, and ufujped the throne. He was afterwards killed by Ofcar the fon of Oflian in a fingle combat. The poet, upon other occafions, gives him the epithet of led-haired. ;22 D A R-T H U L A: the midfl of his Ihadowy mift. Who is it but Dar-thula*, the firfl of Erin's maids ? She has fled from the love of Cairbar, with blue-fliielded Nathos. But the winds de- ceive thee, O Dar-thula. They deny the woody Etha to thy fails. Thefe are not the mountains of Nathos; nor is that the roar of his climbing waves. The halls of Cair- bar are near: the towers of the foe lift their heads ! Erin flretches its green head into the fea. Tura's bay receives the fhip. Where have ye been, ye fouthern winds! when the fons of my love were deceived ? But ye have been fporting on plains, purfuing the thiftle's beard. O that ye had been ruflling in the fails of Nathos, till the hills of Etha arofe ! till they arofe in their clouds, and faw their returning chief! Long hail thou been abfent, Na- thos ! The day of thy return is pad: ! But the land of ftrangers faw thee, lovely : thou wafl lovely in the eyes of Dar-thula. Thy face was like the light of the morning ; thy hair, like the raven's wing. Thy foul was generous and mild, like the hour of the fet- ting fun. Thy words were the gale of the reeds ; the gliding flream of Loral But when the rage of battle rofe, thou waft a fea in a ftorm. The clang of thy arms was terrible: the hoft vanilhed at the found of thy courfe. It was then Dar-thula beheld thee, from the top of her mof- fy tower ; from the tower of Selama |, where her fathers dwelt. " Lovely art thou, O ftranger !" fhe faid, " for her trembling foul arofe. Fair art thou in thy battles, friend of the fallen Cormac j] ! Why doft thou rufh on, in thy valour, youth of the ruddy look ? Few are thy hands, in fight, againft the dark-browed Cairbar ! O that I might be freed from his love§! that I might rejoice in the prefence of * Dar-thula, or Dart-'huile, a zvmnan with jine eyes. She was the mofl famous beauty of iuitiquity. To this day, when a woman is praifed for her beauty, the common phral'c is, ihatJJic is as lovely as Dar-thula, \ The word fignifies either beautiful to behold, or a place zvitk a plcafant or zoicb-: profpcB. In early times, they built their houfes upon eminences, to commanc] a view of the country, and to prevent their being furprized: many of them, on that account, were called Selama. The famous Selma of Fingal is derived from the fame root. I Cormac the young king of Ireland, who was privately murdered \rt Cairbar^ 4 That is, of the love of Cairbar. A POEM. 223 ofNathos! Blefl are the rocks of Etha! they will behold his fteps at the chace ! they will fee his white bofom, when the winds lift his flowing hair !" Such were thy words, Dar-thula, in Selama's moify towers. But, now, the night is around thee. The winds have deceived thy fails : the winds have deceived thy fails, Dar-thula ! Their bluftering found is high. Ceafe a little while, O north wind. Let me hear the voice of the lovely. Thy voice is lovely, Dar-thula, between the ruftling blafts ! " Are thefe the rocks of Nathos ?'* Ihe faid : " This the roar of his mountain-ftreams ? Comes that beam of light from Ufnoth's nightly hall? The mift fpreads a- round ; the beam is feeble and diflant far. But the light of Dar-thula's foul dwells in the chief of Etha ! Son of the generous Ufnoth, why that broken figh ! Are we in the land of (Irangers, chief of echoing Etha !" " These are not the rocks of Nathos," he replied, " nor this the roar of his dreams. No light comes from Etha's halls, for they are diftant far. We are in the land of flrangers, in the land of cruel Cairbar. The winds have deceived us, Dar-thula. Erin lifts here her hills. Go towards the north, Althos: be thy fteps, Ardan, along the coaft ; that the foe may not come in darknefs, and our hopes of Etha fail. I will go towards that molfy tower, to fee who dwells about the beam. Reft, Dar-thula, on the ftiore ! reft in peace, thou lovely light ! the fword of Nathos is around thee, like the lightning of heaven 1" He went. She fat alone ; ihe heard the rolling of the wave. The big tear is in her eye. She looks for return- ing Nathos. Her foul trembles at the blaft. She turns her ear towards the tread of his feet. The tread of his feet is not heard. " Where art thou, fon of my love! The roar of the blaft is around me. Dark is the cloudy night. But Nathos does not return. "What detains thee, chief of Etha ? Have the foes met the hero in the ftrife of the night?" He returned, but his face was dark. He had feen his departed friend ! It was the wall of Tura. The ghoft oT Cuthullin ftalked there alone : The fighing of his breaft was frequent. The decayed flame of his eyes was terri- ble' S24 DAR'THULA: ble ! His fpear was a column of mift. The ftars looked dim through his form. His voice was like hollow wind in a cave ; his eye, a light feen afar. He told the tale of grief. The foul of Nathos was fad, like the fun in the day of mift, when his face is watry and dim. " Why art thou fad, O Nathos ?" faid the lovely daughter of Colla. " Thou art a pillar of light to Dar- thula. The joy of her eyes is in Etha's chief. Where is my friend, but Nathos ? My father, my brother is fallen! Silence dwells on Selama. Sadnefs fpreads on the blue dreams of my land. My friends have fallen, with Cor- mac. The mighty were flain in the battles of Erin. Hear, fon of Umoth ! hear, O Nathos, my tale of grief. " Evening darkened on the plain. The blue ftreams failed before mine eyes. The unfrequent blaft came rufl- ling, in the tops of Selama's groves. My feat was beneath a tree, on the walls of my fathers. Truthil paft before my foul ; the brother of my love : he that was abfent in battle, againfl the haughty Cairbar! Bending on his fpear, the grey-haired Colla came. His downcaft face is dark, and forrow dwells in his foul. His fword is on the fide of the hero ; the helmet of his fathers on his head. The battle grows in his bread. He drives to hide the tear. " Dar-thula, my daughter," he faid, " thou art the lad of Collars race ! Truthil is fallen in battle. The chief of Seldma is no more ! Cairbar comes, with his thou- fands, towards Selama's walls. Colla will meet his pride,- and revenge his fon. But where diall I find thy fafety, Dar-thula with the dark-brown hair ! thou art lovely as the fun-beam of heaven, and thy friends are low ! " Is the fon of battle fallen ?" I faid, with a burding figh : " Ceafed the generous foul of Truthil to lighten through the field ? My fafety, Colla, is in that bow. I have learned to pierce the deer. Is not Cairbar like the hart of the defart, fiither of fallen Truthil ?'* " The face of age brightened with joy. The crouded tears of his eyes poured down. The lips of Colla trem- bled. His grey beard whidled in the blad. " Thou art the fider of Truthil," he faid ; " thou burned in the fire: of- his foul. Take, Dar-thula, take that fpear, that brazen (hield. A P O E M. 225 fhield, that bu'iiifhed helm : they are the fpoils of a war- rior, a fon of early youth ! When the light rifes on Selama, we go to meet the car-borne Cairbar. But keep thou near the arm of Colla, beneath the fhadow of my fliield. Thy father, Dar-thula, could once defend thee; but age is trem- bling on his hand. The ftrength of his arm has failed. His foul is darkened with grief.'* " We palTed the night in forrow. The light of morning rofe. I ftione in the arms of battle. The grey-haired hero moved before. The fons of Selama convened, around the founding fliield of Colla. But few were they in the plain, and their locks were grey. The youths had fallen vvith Truthil, in the battle of car-borne Cormac. " Friends of my youth !'* faid Colla, " it was not thus you have feen me in arms. It was not thus I ftrode to battle, when the great Confadan fell. But ye are laden with grief. The darknefs of age comes, like the mifl of the defart. My fhield is worn with years ! my fword is fixed * in its place ! I faid to my foul, thy evening (hall be calm : thy depar- ture, like a fading light. But the ftorm has returned. I bend like an aged oak. My boughs are fallen on Selama. I tremble in my place. Where art thou, with thy fallen heroes, O my beloved Truthil ! Thou anfwereft not from thy rufhing blaft. The foul of thy father is fad. But I will be fad no more : Cairbar or Colla muft fall ! I feel the returning ftrength of my arm. My heart leaps at the found of war.'* " The hero drew his fword. The gleaming blades of his people rofe. They moved along the plain. Their grey hair ftreamed in the wind. Cairbar fat at the feaft, in the filent plain of Lonaf. He faw the coming of the heroes. He called his chiefs to war. Why || fhould I tell to Nathos, how the ftrife of battle grew ? I have F f feen * It was the cuflom of ancient times, that every warrior, at a certain age, or when he became unfit for the field, fixed his arms in the great hall, where the tribe feaft- ed, upon joyful occafions. He was afterwards never to appear in battle ; and this ftage of life was called the time of Jixing of the arms. t Lena, a marfliy plain. Cairbar had juft provided an entertainment for his army, upon the defeat of Truthil the fon of Colla, and the reft of the party of Cormac, when Colla and his aged warriors arrived to give him battle, 11 The poet, by an artifice, avoids the defcription of the battle of Lona, as it would be improper in the mouth of a woman, and could have nothing new, after the 226 DAR-THULA: feen thee, In the midft of thoufands, like the beam of heaven's fire : it is beautiful, but terrible ; the people fall in its dreadful courfe. The fpear of Colla flew. He remembered the battles of his youth. An arrow came with its found : it pierced the hero's fide. He fell on his echoing ihield. My foul ftarted with fear. I ftretched my buckler over him ; but my heaving bread was feen ! Cairbar came, with his fpear. He beheld Se- iama's maid. Joy rofe on his dark-brown face. He flayed the lifted fleel. He raifed the tomb of Colla. He brought me weeping to Selama. He fpoke the words of love, but my foul was fad. I faw the fhields of my fathers ; the fword of car-borne Truthil. I faw the arms of the dead ; the tear was on my cheek! Then thou didft come, O Nathos! and gloomy Cairbar fled. He fled, like the ghofl: of the defart before the morning's beam. His hoft was not near : and feeble was his arm againfl thy fleel ! Why art thou fad, O Nathos ?" faid the lovely daughter of Colla. " I HAVE met," replied the hero, " the battle in my youth. My arm could not lift the fpear, when danger firfl arofe. My foul brightened in the prefence of war, as the green narrow vale, when the fun pours his flreamy beams, before he hides his head in a ftorm. The lonely traveller feels a mournful joy. He fees the darknefs, that flowiy comes. My foul brightened in danger before I faw Selama's fair ; before I faw thee, like a ftar, that fhines on the hill, at night : the cloud advances, and threatens the lovely light ! We are in the land of foes. The winds have deceived us, Dar-thula ! the flrength of our friends is not near, nor the mountains of Etha. Where fhall I find thy peace, daughter of mighty Colla ! The brothers of Nathos are brave; and his own fword has fhone in fight. But what are the fons of Ufnoth to the hofl of dark-browed Cairbar ! O that the winds had brought thy fails, Ofcar * king of men ! Thou didft promife to come to the battles of fallen Cormac! Then would my hand be tlie numerous defciiptions, of that kind, in the reft of the poems. He, at the fame timt*, oiv's an opportunity to Dar-thula to pafs a fine compliment on her lover, * Ofcar, the fon of Offian, had lono; refoived en an expedition, into Ireland, againfl Caiibar, who had afTafTinated his friend Cathol, the fon of Moran, an Inlli- man of noble extraclion, and in the interefl of the family of Corinac, A P O E M. 227 be (Irong, as the flaming arm of death. Cairbar v/ould tremble in his halls, and peace dwell round the lovely Dar-thula. But why doll thou fall, my foul ? The fons of Ufnoth may prevail !" " And they will prevail, O Nathos !" faid the rifmg foul of the maid. " Never fhall Dar-thula behold the halls of gloomy Cairbar. Give me thofe arms of brafs, that glitter to the palling meteor. I fee them dimly in the dark-bofomed ihip. Dar-thula will enter the battle of fteel. Ghoil of the noble Colla ! do I behold thee on that cloud ? Who is that, dim, befide thee ? Is it the car- borne Truthil ? Shall I behold the halls of him that flew Selama's chief ? No : I will not behold them, fpirits of my love !" Joy rofe in the face of Nathos, when he heard the white-bofomed maid. " Daughter of Selama! thou fliinelt along my foul. Come, with thy thoufands, Cairbar ! the fl:rength of Nathos is returned ! Thou, O aged Ufnoth, flialt not hear that thy fon has fled. I remember thy words on Etha, when my fails began to rife ; when I fpread them towards Erin, towards the mofly walls of Tura ! " Tkou goeft,'* he faid, " O Nathos, to the king of fliields ! Thou goefl to CuthulHn, chief of men, who ne- ver fled from danger. Let not thy arm be feeble: neither be thy thoughts of flight ; left the fon of Semo flioukl fay, that Etha's race are weak. His words may come to Ufnoth, and fadden his foul in the hall." The tear was on my father's cheek. He gave this Ihining fword ! " I CAME to Tura's bay : but the halls of Tura were filent. I looked around, and there was none to tell of the fon of generous Semo. I went to the hall of flieils, where the arms of his fathers hung. But the arms were gone, and aged Lamhor * fat in tears. " Whence are the arms of fteel,'* faid the riling Lamhor ? " The light of the fpear has long been abfent from Tura's dulky walls. Come ye from the rolling fea ? or from Temora's 1 mournful halls ?" "We * Lamh-mhor, mighty hand, t Temora was the refidence of the fuprenie kings of Ireland. It is here called mournful, on account of the death of Cormac, who was murdered there by Cajj- bar, who ufurped his throne. 228 D A R-T H U L A: <■' We come from the fea," I faid, " from Ufnoth^s riimg towers. We are the fons of Slis-samaj|, the daugh- ter of car-borne Semo. Where is Tura's chief, fon of the filent hail ? But why fhould Nathos alk ? for I behold thy tears. How did the mighty fall, fon of the lonely Tura?" " He fell not," Lamhor repHed, " like the filent liar of night, when it flies through darknefs, and is no more. But he was like a meteor that fhoots into a diftant land. Death attends its dreary courfe. Itfelf is the fign of wars. Mournful are the banks of Lego; and the roar of ftreamy Lara ! There the hero fell, fon of the noble Ufnoth." " The hero fell in the midft of flaughter," I faid, with a burfting figh. " His hand was ftrong in war. Death dimly fat behind his fword." " We came to Lego's founding banks. We found hii rlfmg tomb. His friends in battle are there: his bards of many fongs. Three days we mourned over the hero: on the fourth, I ftruck the ihield of Caithbat. The heroes gathered around with joy, and Ihook their beamy fpears. Corlath was near with his hoft, the friend of car-borne Cairbar. We came like a ftream by night. His heroes fell before us. When the people of the valley rofe, they faw their blood with morning's light. But we rolled away, like wreathes of mill, to Cormac's echoing hall. Our fwords rofe to defend the king. But Temora's halls were empty. Cormac had fallen in his youth. The king of Erin was no more ! " Sadness feized the fons of Erin. They flowly, gloo- mily, retired : like clouds that, long having threatened rain, vaniih behind the hills. The fons of Ufnoth moved, in their grief, towards Tura's founding bay. We paflTed by Selama. Cairbar retired, like Lano's mift, when dri- ven before the winds. It was then I beheld thee, O Dar- thula, Hke the light of Etha's fun. " Lovely is that beam !" I faid. The crowded figh of my bofom rofe. Thou cameft in thy beauty, Dar-thula, to Etha's mourn- ful chief. But the winds have deceived us, daughter of Colla, and the foe is near !" " Yes ! IJ Slis-feamha, fcft bofom. She was the wife of Ufnoth, and daughter of Semo, the chief of tlie i/lc ofmifi. A P O E M. 227 " Yes! the foe is near," faid the rufhing flrength of AI- thos *. " I heard their clanging arms on the coafl. I faw the dark wreathes of Erin's flandard. Diflind is the voice of Cairbar f ; loud as Cromla's falling ftream. He had feen the dark fhip on the fea, before the dufky night came down. His people watch on Lena's plain. They lift ten thoufand fwords.'* '^ And let them lift ten thou- fand fwords," faid Nathos, with a fmile,, " The fons of car-borne Ufnoth will never tremble in danger! Why dofl thou roll with all thy foam^thou roaring fea of Erin? Why do ye ruflle, on your dark wings, ye whiflling forms of the fky ? Do ye think, ye ftorms, that ye keep Nathos on the coafl ? No : his foul detains him, children of the night ! Althos! bring my father's arms : thou feeft them beaming to the liars. Bring the fpear of Semo ||. It (lands in the dark-bofomed Ihip !" He brought the arms. Nathos covered his limbs, in all their fhining fleel. The ftride of the chief is lovely. The joy of his eyes was terrible. He looks towards the coming of Cairbar. The wind is ruflling in his hair. Dar-thula is filent at his fide. Her look is fixed on the chief. She drives to hide the rifmg figh. Two tears fwell in her radiant eyes 1 " Althos !" faid the chief of Etha, " I fee a cave in that rock. Place Dar-thula there. Let thy arm, my bro- ther, be flrong. Ardan! we meet the foe; call to battle gloomy Cairbar. O that he came in his founding fleel, to meet the fon of Ufnoth ! Dar-thula ! if thou fhalt efcape, look not on the fallen Nathos ! Lift thy fails, O Althos, towards the echoing groves of my land. " Tell the chief §, that his fon fell with fame; that my * Althos had jufl; returned from viewing the coaft of Lena, whither he had been fent by Nathos, the beginning of the night. + Cairbar had gathered an army, to the coaft of Ulfier, in order to oppofe Fin- gal who prepared for an expedition into Ireland to re-eftablifh the houfe of Cormac on the throne, wliich Cairbar had ufurped. Between the wings of Cairbar's army was the bay of Tura, into which the fhip of the fons of Ufnoth was driven: fo that there was no pofTibility of their efcaping. 11 Semo was grandfather to Nathos by the mother's fide. TJie fpear mentioned here was given to Ufnoth on his marriage, it being the cuilom then for the father of the lady to give his arms to his fon-in-law. ^ Ufnoth. 230 DAR-THULAr my fword did not fhun the fight. Tell him I fell in the midft of thoufands. Let the joy of his grief be great ! Daughter of Colla! call the maids to Etha's echoing hall. Let their fongs arife for Nathos, when fhadowy autumn returns. O that the voice of Cona, that Oflian, might be heard in my praife ! then would my fpirit rejoice in the midft of the rufhing winds." And my voice (hall praife thee, Nathos, chief of the woody Etha ! The voice of Offian fhall rife in thy praife, fon of the generous Ufnoth! Why was I not on Lena, when the battle rofe ? Then would the fword of Offian defend thee ; or himfeif fall low ! We fat, that night, in Selma, round the ftrength of the fhell. The wind was abroad, in the oaks. The fpirit of the mountain *' roared. The blafl came ruftling through the hall, and gently touched my harp. The found was mournful and low, like the fong of the tomb. Fingal heard it the firft. The crouded fighs of his bofom rofe. " Some of my heroes are low," faid the grey-haired king of Morven. " I hear the found of death on the harp. Offian, touch the trembling firing. Bid the forrow rife ; that their fpirits may fly, with joy, to Morven's woody hills !" I touched the harp before the king ; the found was mournful and low. " Bend forward from your clouds," I faid, " ghofls of my fathers ! bend ! Lay by the red terror of your courfe. Receive the falling chief; whether he comes from a diftant land, or rifes from the rolling fea. Let his robe of mid be near; his fpear, that is formed of a cloud. Place an half-extinguilhed meteor by his fide, in the form of the hero's fword. And, oh ! let his countenance be lovely, that his friends may delight in his prefence. Bend from your cloud," I faid, " ghofls of my fathers ! bend !" Such was my fong in Selma, to the lightly-trembhng harp. But Nathos was on Erin's Ihore, furrounded by the night. He heard the voice of the foe, amidfl the roar of tumbling \vaves. Silent he heard their voice, and left- cd on his fpear! Morning rofe, with its beams. The fons of * By ihe fpiiit of the mountain is meant that deep and melancholy found which precedes a ftorm ; well known to ihofe who live iu a high country. A POEM. 231 of Erin appear ; like grey rocks, with all their trees, they fpread along the coail. Cairbar flood, in the midft. He grimly fmiled when he faw the foe. Nathos rufhed for- ward, in his ftrength : nor could Dar-thula flay behind. She came with the hero, lifting her fhining fpear. And who are thefe, in their armour, in the pride of youth ? Who but the fons of Ufnoth, Aithos and dark-haired Ardan ? " Come," faid Nathos, " come ! chief of high Temo- ra ! Let our battle be on the coall, for the white-bofomed maid. His people are not with Nathos ; they are behind thefe rolling feas. Why doft thou bring thy thoufands againfl the chief of Etha ? Thou didfl fly * from him, in battle, when his friends were around his fpear." " Youth of the heart of pride, fhall Erin's king fight with thee ? Thy fathers were not among the renowned, nor of the kings of men. Are the arms of foes in their halls ? or the fhields of other times ? Cairbar is renowned in Te- mora, nor does he fight with feeble men 1" The tear ftarted from car-borne Nathos. He turned his eyes to his brothers. Their fpears flew, at once. Three heroes lay on earth. Then the light of their fwords gleam- ed on high. The ranks of Erin yield; as a ridge of dark clouds before a blafl of wind ! Then Cairbar ordered his people, and they drew a thoufand bows. A thoufand ar- rows flew. The fons of Ufnoth fell in blood. They fell like three young oaks, which flood alone on the hill: The traveller faw the lovely trees, and wondered how they grew fo lonely: the blafl of the defart came, by night, and laid their green heads low ; next day he returned, but they were withered, and the heath was bare ! Dar-thui.a flood in filent grief, and beheld their fall! No tear is in her eye ; but her look is wildly fad. Pale was her cheek. Her trembling lips broke fliort an half- formed word. Her dark hair flew on wind. The gloomy Cairbar came. " Where is thy lover now ? the car-borne chief of Etha ? Hafl: thou beheld the halls of Ufnoth ? or the dark-brown hills of Fingal ? My battle would have roared on Morven, had not the winds met Dar-thuia. Fingal * He alludes to the flight of Cairbar from Selama, 232 D A R - T H U L A. Fingal himfelf would have been low, and forrow dwelling in Selma !" Her fhield fell from Dar-thula's arm. Her breafl of fnow appeared. It appeared ; but it was ftained with blood. An arrow was fixed in her fide. She fell on the fallen Nathos, like a wreath of fnow ! Her hair fpreads wide on his face. Their blood is mixing round ! " Daughter of Colla ! thou art low 1" faid Cairbar's hundred bards. " Silence is at the blue Itreams of Se- iama. TruthiFs* race have failed. When wilt thou rife in thy beauty, firft of Erin's maids ? Thy fleep is long in the tomb : the morning, diflant far. The fun fhall not come to thy bed and fay, '° Awake, Darthulal awake, thou firft of women ! The wind of fpring is abroad 1 the flowers ihake their heads on the green hills ! the woods wave their growing leaves !" Retire, O fun ! the daughter of Colla is afleep. She will not come forth in her beauty ! She will not move, in the fteps of her lovelinefs !" Such was the fong of the bards, when they raifed the tomb. I fung over the grave, when the king of Morven came ; when he came to green Erin, to fight with car- borne Cairbar ! * Truthil was the founder of Dar-thula's family. T H E THE DEATH OF CUTHULLIN A P O E ARGUMENT. CUTHULLIN, after the arms of Fingal had expelled Swaran from Ireland, con- tinued to manage the affairs of that kingdom as the guardian of Cormac, the young king. In the third year of CuthuUin's adminiftration, Torlath, the fon of Cantela, rebelled in Connaught; and advanced to Temora to dethrone Cor- mac. CuthuUin naarched againft hisn, came up v;ith him at the lake of Lego, and totally defeated his forces. Torlath fell in battle by CuthuUin's hand; but as he too-eagerly preffed on the enemy, he was mortally wounded. The af- fairs of Cormac, though, for fome time, fupported by Nathos, as mentioned in the preceding poem, f>;ll into confufion at the death of Cuthullin. Cormac him- i^elf was flain by the rebel Cairbar; and the re-eflablifhment of the royal family of Ireland by Fingal, furniihes the fabjeft of the epic poem of Temora. The death of CUTHULLIN: P O EM. Is the wind on the fhleld of Fingal ? or Is the voice of pad times in my hall ? Sing on^ fweet voice, for thou art pleafant. Thou carried away my night with joy* Sing on, O Bragela, daughter of car-borne Sorglan ! " It is the white wave of the rock, and not CuthuUin's fails. Often do the mifls deceive me, for the fhip of my love ; when they rife round fome ghoil, and fpread their grey fkirts on the wind. Vv'hy dolt thou delay thy com- ing, fon of the generous Semo ? Four times has autumn returned with its winds, and raifed the feas of Togorma*, fmce thou haft been in the roar of battles, and Bragela diftant far ! Hills of the iile of mift ! when will ye anfwer to his hounds ? But ye are dark in your clouds. Sad Bragela calls in vain ! Night comes roiling down. The face of ocean fails. The heath-cock's head is beneath his wing. The hind fleeps, with the hart of the defart. They fhall rife with morning's light, and feed by the mofly ftream. But my tears return with the fun ; my fighs come on with the night. When wilt thou come in thine arms, O chief of Erin's wars ?" Pleasant is thy voice in Oilian's ear, daughter of car-borne Sorglan ! But, retire to the hall of fliells ; to the beam of the burning oak. Attend to the murmur of the fea : it rolls at Dunfcai's walls. Let lleep defcend on, thy blue eyes : let the hero arife in thy dreams ! CuTHULLIN * Togorma, i. e. the ijland of blue waves, one of the Hebrides, was fubjeft to Connal, the fon of Caithbat, CuthuUin's friend. He is fometimes called tie fon of Colgar, from one of that name who was the founder of the family. Connal, a few days before the news of Torlath's revolt came to Temora, had failed to To" gorma, his native ifle ; where he w-is detained by contrary winOs during the war ifi '.vhich Cuthullin was killed. 236 The death of CUTHULLIN : CuTHULLiN fits at Lego's lake, at the dark-rolling of waters. Night is around the hero. His thoufands fpread on the heath. A hundred oaks burn, in the midft. The feafl of iliells is fmoking wide. Carril ftrikes the harp, beneath a tree. His grey locks glitter in the beam. The ruftling blall of night is near, and lifts his aged hair. His fong is of the blue Togorma, and of its chief, Cu- thuUin's friend ! " Why art thou abfent, Connal, in the day of the gioomy fhorm ? The chiefs of the fouth have convened, againft the car-borne Cormac. The winds de- tain thy fails : thy blue waters roll around thee. But Cormac is not alone. The fon of Semo fights his wars ! Semo's fon his battles fights ! the terror of the flranger ! he that is like the vapour of death, llowly borne by fultry winds ! The fun reddens in its prefence : the people fall around." Such was the fong of Carril, when a fon of the foe appeared. He threw down his pointlefs fpear. He fpoke the words of Torlath ! Torlath, chief of heroes, from Lego's fable furge ! he that led his thoufands to battle, againft car-borne Cormac. Cormac, who was diftant far, in Temora's * echoing halls : he learned to bend the bow of his fathers ; and to lift the fpear. Nor long didil thou lift the fpear, mildly-lTiining beam of youth ! death ftands dim behind thee, like the darkened half of the moon, be- hind its growing light ! Cuthullin rofe before the bard -f, that came from generous Torlath. He offered him the lliell of joy. He honoured the fon of fongs. " Sweet voice of Lego !" he faid, " what are the words of Tor- lath ? Comes he to our feaft or battle, the car-borne fon of Cantela || ?" " He comes to thy battle," replied the bard, " to the founding itrife of fpears. When morning is grey on Lego, Torlath * The royal palace of the Iriftj kings; Teamhrath, according to fome of the barqs. f The bards were the heralds of ancient times; and their perfons were facied on account of their office. In later times they abufed that privilege ; and as their per- fons were inviolable, they fatyrifed and lampooned fo freely thofe who were not liked by their patrons, that tuey became a public nuifance. Screened under the charatter of heralds, they grol'sly abufed the enemy when he would not accept the icrms they offered. 1] CecLii-teola', uiad of a farmty. A POEM. 237 Torlath will fight on the plain. Wilt thou meet him, in thine arms, king of the ifle of mift ? Terrible is the fpear of Torlath ! it is a meteor of night. He lifts it, and the people fall ! death fits in the lightning of his fword !'" " Do I fear," replied Cuthullin, " the fpear of car-borne Torlath ? He is brave as a thoufand heroes : but my foul delights in war ! The fword refts not by the fide of Cu- thullin, bard of the times of old ! Morning fhall meet me on the plain, and gleam on the blue arms of Semo's fon. But fit thou, on the heath, O bard ! and let us hear thy voice. Partake of the joyful fhell j and hear the fongs of Temora !" " This is no time," replied the bard, " to hear the fong of joy ; when the mighty are to meet in battle, like the llrength of the waves of Lego. Why art thou fo dark, Slimora*! with all thy filent woods? No ftar trembles on thy top : no moon-beam, on thy fide. But the meteors of death are there : the grey watry forms of ghofls. Why art thou dark, Slimora ! with thy filent woods ?" He re- tired, in the found of his fong. Carril joined his voice. The mufic was like the memory of joys that are paft, pleafant and mournful to the foul. The ghofts of departed bards heard on Slimora's fide. Soft founds fpread along the wood. The filent valleys of night rejoice. So, when he fits in the filence of the day, in the valley of his breeze, the humming of the mountain-bee comes to OfTian's ear: the gale drowns it in its courfe ; but the pleafant found returns again ! Slant looks the fun on the field ; gradual grows the fliade of the hill ! " Raise," faid Cuthullin, to his hundred bards, " the fong of the noble Fingal : that fong which he hears at night, when the dreams of his reft defcend ; when the bards ftrike the diftant harp, and the faint light gleams on Selma's walls. Or let the grief of Lara rife : the fighs of the mother of Calmar |, when he was fought, in vain, on his * Slia'mor, great hill. + Calmar, the {'on ofMatha. His death is related at large in the third book of Fingal. He was the only fon of Matha ; and the family was exlind in him. The jcat of the family was on the banks of the river Lara, in the neighbourhood of Lesrc, f,nd probably near the place where Cuthullin lay; which circumftaEce faggefied to him the lamentation of Alcletha over her fon,' 238 The DEATH of CUTHULLIN : his hills ; when fhe beheld his bow in the hall. Carril,, place the Ihield of Calthbat on that branch. Let the fpear of Cuthiillin be near ; that the found of my battle may rife, with the grey beam of the eaft." The hero leaned on his father's ihield: the fong of Lara rofe! The hundred bards were diflant far: Carrii alone is near the chief. The words of the fong were his : the found of his harp was mournful. " Alcletha * with the aged locks! mother of car- borne Calmar ! why doft thou look towards the defart, to behold the return of thy fon ? Thefe are not his heroes, dark on the heath : nor is that the voice of Calmar. It is but the diflant grove, Alcletha ! but the roar of the mountain wind ! " Who -j- bounds over Lara's ftream^ filler of the noble Calmar ? Does not Alcletha behold his fpear ? But her eyes are dim ! Is it not the fon of Matha, daughter of my love ?" " i r is but an aged oak, Alcletha !" replied the lovely v/eeping Alonaj|. " It is but an oak, Alcletha, bent over Lara's ilream. But who comes along the plain ? Sorrow is in his fpeed. He lifts high the fpear of Calmar. Alcle- tha, it is covered with blood !" " But it is covered with the blood of foes§, filler of car-borne Calmar ! His fpear never returned unllained v/ith blood ; nor his bow, from the ftrife of the mighty. The battle is confumed in his pre- fence: he is aflame of death, Alona! Youth*[of the mourn- ful fpeed ! where is the fon of Alcletha ? Does he return with his fame, in the midfl of his echoing Hiields ? Thou art dark, and filent ! Calmar is, then, no more ! Tell me not, Vv arrior, how he fell. I mull not hear of his wound !" Why doft thou look tovv^ards the defart, mother of low- laid Calmar?" Such was the fong of Carrii, when Cuthullin lay on his * Ald-cla'tha decaying beauty : probably a poencal name given the mother of Calmar, by the bard himfclf. i Alcletha fpcaks. Calmar had promifed to return, by a certain day, and his inothcr and his filler Alona aie reprefented as lookin'^, with impatience, towards that qunrter where they expcQed Calmar ihould make his firll appearance. ■! Aloine, fxquifite leaiity. ^i Alcletha I'pcaks. "il She addrelJes herlVir to Laniir, Calmar's ftiend, who ha>l returned with the A POEM. 239 his fhield. The bards relied on their harps. Sleep fell foftly around. The fon of Semo was awake alone. His foul was fixed on war. The burning oaks began to decay. Faini red light is fpread around. A feeble voice is heard. The ghofl of Calmar came ! He ftalked dimly along the beam. Dark is the wound in his fide. His hair is difor- dered and loofe. Joy fits pale on his face. He feems to invite Cuthullin to his cave. " Son of the cloudy night i" faid the rifmg chief of Erin, " why doft thou bend thy dark eyes on me, ghoft of the noble Calmar ? Wouldfl thou frighten me, O Matha's fon ! from the battles of Cor mac ? Thy hand was not feeble in war ; neither was thy voice for peace. How art thou changed, chief of Lara ! if thou now doft advife to fly ! But, Calmar, I never fled. I never feared the ghofts of night. Small is their knowledge, weak their hands ; their dwelling is in the wind. But my foul grows in danger, and rejoices in the noife of fteel. P.e- tire thou to thy cave. Thou art not Calmar's ghoft. He delighted in battle : his arm was like the thunder of hea- ven !'* He retired in his blaft vvdth joy, for he had heard the voice of his praife. The faint beam of the morning rofe. The found of Caithbat's buckler fpread. Green Erin's warriors con- vened, like the roar of many ftreams. The horn of war is heard over Lego. The mighty Torlath cam.e, " Why doft thou come with thy thoufands, Cuthullin ?" faid the chief of Lego. '' I know the ftrength of thy arm. Thy foul is an unextinguilhed (ire. Why fight we not on the plain, and let our hofts behold our deeds ? Let them be- hold us like roaring waves, that tumble round a rock ; the mariners haften awav, and look on their ftrife vvith fear." " Thou rifeft, like the fun, on my foul," replied the fon of Semo. " Thine arm is mighty, O Torlath ! and worthy of my wrath. Retire, ye men of Uilin, to Sli- mora's fliady fide. Behold the chief of Erin, in the day of his fame. Carril ! tell to mighty Connal, if Cuthullin muft fall — tell him I accufed the winds, which roar on Togorma's waves. Never was he abfent in battle, when the 240 The DEATH of CUTHULLIN : the flrife of my fame arofe. Let his fword be before Cormac, like the beam of heaven. Let his counfel found in Temora, in the day of danger !'* He rufhed, in the found of his arms, like the terrible fpirit of Loda* ; when he comes, in the roar of a thou- fand florms, and fcatters battles from his eyes. He fits on a cloud over Lochlin's feas. His mighty hand is on his fVv'ord. Winds lift his flaming locks ! The waining moon half-lights his dreadful face. His features, blended in darknefs, arife to view. So terrible was Cuthullin, in the day of his fame. Torlath fell by his hand. Lego's heroes mourned. They gather, around the chief, like the clouds of the defart. A thoufand fwords rofe at once ; a thoufand arrows flev/. But he flood like a rock, in the midfl of the roaring fea. They fell around. He ftrode in blood. Dark Slimora echoed wide. The fons of Ullin came. The battle fpread over Lego. The chief of Erin overcame. He returned over the field with his fame. But pale he returned ! The joy of his face was dark. He roll- ed his eyes in fdence. The fword hung, unflieathed, in his hand : his fpear bent at every ftep ! " Cap.ril 1" faid the chief in fecret, " the ftrength of Cuthullin fails. My days are with the years that are pad. No m.ornlng of mine fiiall arife. They fhall feek me at Temora, but I fhall not be found. Cormac will weep in his hall, and fay, " Where is Erin's chief ?" But my name is renowned ! my fame, in the fong of bards. The vouth will fay in fecret, " O let me die as Cuthullin died. Renown clothed him like a robe :■ the lio;ht of his fame is great." Draw the arrow from my fide. Lay Cuthullin beneath that oak. Place the fhield of Caithbat near, that they may behold me amidft the arms of my fathers !" " And is the fon of .Semo fallen ?" faid Carril, with a figh. " Mournful are Tura's walls. Sorrow dwells at Dunfc'di. Thy fpoufe is left alone in her vouth. The fonf of * Loda, in the third book of Fingal, is mentioned as a place of worfhip in Scan- dinavia : by the fpirit cf Loda, the poet probably means Oclin, the great deity of the northern natipns. lie is defcribed here with all his terrois. i Conloch, who was afterwards very famous for his great exploits in Ireland. H; was fo reni&rkubh for bis dexterity in handling the javelin, that when a ,e;0od marklraan A P O E M. 241 of thy love is alone ! He fliall come to Bragela, and afk her why flie weeps. He fhall lift his eyes to the wall, and fee his father's fword. " Whofe fword is that ?" he will fay. The foul of his mother is fad. Who is that, like the hart of the defart, in the murmur of his courfe ? His eyes look wildly round, in fearch of his friend. Connal, fon. of Colgar, where haft thou been, when the mighty fell ? Did the feas of Togorma roll around thee ? Was the wind of the fouth in thy fails ? iThe mighty have fallen, in battle, and thou waft not there. Let none tell it in. Selma, nor in Morven's woody land. Fingal will be fad, and the fons of the defart mourn !" By the dark-rolling waves of Lego they raifed the hero's tomb. Luath*, at a diftance, lies. The fong of bards rofe over the dead. " Blestj be thy foul, fon of Semo. Thou wert migh- ty in battle. Thy ftrength was like the ftrength of a ftream : thy fpeed, like the eagle's wing. Thy path in battle was terrible : the fteps of death were behind thy fword. Bleft be thy foul, fon of Semo, car-borne chief of Dunfcai. Thou haft not fallen by the fword of the mighty, neither was thy blood on the fpear of the brave- The arrow came, like the fting of death in a blaft : nor did the feeble hand, which drew the bow, perceive it» Peace to thy foul, in thy cave, chief of the iile of mift ! " The mighty are difperfed at Temora : there is none in Cormac's hall. The king mourns in his youth. He does not behold thy return. The found of thy fhield is ceafed : his foes are gathering round. Soft be thy reft ill thy cave, chief of Erin's wars ! Bragela will not hope for thy return, or fee thy fails in ocean's foam. Her fteps are not on the ftiore ; nor her ear open to the voice of thy H h rowers. markfman Is defcribed, it has puffed into a proverb, in the north of Scctland, He is unerring as the arm of Conlock, * It was, of old, the cufiom to bury the favourite dog near the mafter. This was not pecuHar to the ancient Scots, for we find it praftiled by many other nations in their ages of heroifm. There is a flone flicwn flill at Dunfcai in the ifle of Sky, to which Cuthulhn commonly bound his dog Luath. The Hone goes by his name to this day. t This is the fong of the bards over Cuthulhn's tomb. Every flanza clofes with fome remarkable title of the hero, which was always the cuftom in funeral elegies. 242 The DEATH of CUTHULLIN. rowers. She fits in the hail of fliells. She fees the arms of him that is no more. Thine eyes are full of tears, daughter of car-borne Sorglan ! Blefi be thy foul in death, O chief of fliady Tura I" T H E THE ATTL'E OF L POEM. ARGUMENT. FINGAL, on his return from Ireland, after he had expelled Swaran from that kingdom, made a fead to all his heroes ; he forgot to invite Ma-ronnan and Al- fJo, two chiefs, who had not been along with him in his expedition. They re- fented his negleft; and went over to Erragon king of Sora, a country of Scandi- navia, the declared enemy of Fingal. The valour of Aldo foon gained him a great reputation in Sora ; and Lorma the beautiful wife of Erragon fell In love tvith him. He found means to efcapc ^vtth her, and to come to Fingal, who refided then in Selma on the wefiern coaft. Erragon invaded Scotland, and was llain in battle by Gaul the fon of Morni, after he had rejcfted terms of peace of- fered him by Fingal, In this war Aldo fell, in a fingle combat, by the hands of his rival Erragon ; and the unfortunate Lorma afterwards died of grief. The battle of LORA : P O E M. SON of the dlftant land, who dwellefl in the fecret cell! do I hear the found of thy grove ? or is it thy voice of fongs ? The torrent was loud in my ear ; but I heard a tuneful voice. Doft thou praife the chiefs of thy land ; or the fpirits * of the wind ? But, lonely dweller of rocks ! look thou on that heathy plain. Thou feeft green tombs, with their rank, whiftling grafs; with their (tones of moffy heads. Thou feefl them, fon of the rock ; but Offian's eyes have failed. A MOUNTAIN-STREAM comes roaring down, and fends its waters round a green hill. Four moffy (tones, in the mid(h of withered grafs, rear their heads on the top. Two trees, which the (forms have bent, fpread their whiuling branches around. This is thy dwelling, Erragon | ; this, thy narrow houfe. The found of thy (hells have been long forgot in Sora : thy (hield is become dark in thy hall.' Erragon, king of (hips ! chief of diftant Sora ! how haft thou fallen on our mountains ? how is the mighty low ? — Son of the fecret cell ! doft thou delight in fongs ? Hear the battle of Lora. The found of its fteel is long fmce paft. So thunder, on the darkened hill, roars, and is no more. The fun returns with his filent beams. The glit- tering rocks, and green heads of the mountains, fmile ! The bay of Cona received our (hips || from Erin's roll- ing waves. Our white (heets hung loofe to the mafts. The boifterous winds roared behind the groves of Morven. The horn of the king is founded : the deer ftart from their rocks. Our arrows flew in the woods. The feaft of the hill is fpread. Our joy was great, on our rocks, for the fall * Alluding to the religious hymns of the Culdees. + Erragon, or Ferg-thonn, fignlfies the rage of the waves : probably a poetical name given him by OlTian himfelf ; for he goes by the name of Annir in tradition. II This was at Fingal's return from his war againll Swaran. 246 The battle of LORA : fall of the terrible Swaran. Two heroes were forgot at our feaft. The rage of their bofoms burned. They rolled their red eyes in fecret. The figh burfts from their breafts. They were feen to talk together, and to throw their fpears on earth. They were two dark clouds, in the midft of our joy; like pillars of mift on the fettled fea. They glit- ter to the fun, but the mariners fear a ftorm. " Raise my white fails," faid Ma-ronnan, " raife them to the winds of the weft. Let us rufti, O Aldo, through the foam of the northern wave. We are forgot at the feaft: but our arms have been red in blood. Let us leave the hills of Fingal, and ferve the king of Sora. His coun- tenance is fierce. War darkens around his fpear. Let us be renowned, O Aldo, in the battles of other lands'." They took their fwords, their ftiields of thongs. They Tulhed to Lumar's refounding bay. They came to Sora's haughty king, the chief of bounding fteeds. Erragon had returned from the chace. His fpear was red in blood. He bent his dark face to the ground, and whiftled as he went. He took the ftrangers to his feafts: they fought^ and con- quered, in his wars. Aldo returned with his fame towards Sora's lofty walls. From her tower looked the fpoufe of Erragon, the humid, rolling eyes of Lorma. Her yellow hair flies on the wind of ocean. Her white breaft heaves, like fnow on heath ; when the gentle winds arife, and llowly move it in the light. She faw young Aldo, like the beam of Sora's fet- ting fun. Her foft heart fighed. Tears filled her eyes. Her white arm fupported her head. Three days fhe fat within the hall, and covered her grief with joy. On the fourth, fhe fled with the hero, along the troubled fea. They came to Cona's mofly towers, to Fingal king of fpears. " Aldo of the heart of pride !'* faid Fingal, rifing in wrath: ", ihall I defend thee from the rage of Sora's in- jured king ? Who will now receive my people into their halls ? who will give the feaft of ftrangers ; fince Aldo, of the little foul, has diflionoured my name in Sora? Go to thy hills, thou feeble hand. Go : hide thee in thy caves. Mournful is the battle we muft fight, with Sora*s gloomy kine. A POEM. 247 king. Spirit of the noble Trenmor ! when will Fingal ceale to fight ? I was born in the midft of battles *, and my fleps mull move in blood to the tomb. But my hand did not injure the weak, my fleel did not touch the feeble in arms. I behold thy tempefts, O Morven, which will overturn my halls ; when my children are dead in battle, and none remains to dwell in Selma. Then will the feeble come, but they will not know my tomb. My renown is only in fong. My deeds lliall be as a dream, to future times !" His people gathered around Erragon, as the ftorms round the ghofl of night ; M^hen he calls them, from the top of Morven, and prepares to pour them on the land of the flranger. He came to the Ihore of Cona. He fent his bard to the king, to demand the combat of thoufands, or the land of many hills ! Fingal fat in his hall, with the friends of his youth around him. The young heroes were at the chace, far diftant in the defart. The grey-haired chiefs talked of other times ; of the aftions of their youth ; when the aged Nartmorf came, the chief of dreamy Lora. " This is no time," laid Nartmor, " to hear the fongs of other years : Erragon frowns on the coaft, and lifts ten thoufand fwords. Gloomy is the king among his chiefs ! He is like the darkened moon, amidft the meteors of night ; when they fail along her fkirts, and give the light that has failed o'er her orb." " Come," faid Fingal, " from thy hall, come, daughter of my love ; come from thy hall, Bofmina||, maid of flreamy Morven ! Nartmor, take the Heeds of the flrangers. Attend the daughter of Fingal ! Let her bid the king of Sora to our fead:, to Sel- ma's lliaded wall. Offer him, O Bofmina, the peace of heroes, and the wealth of generous Aldo. Our youths are far diilant : age is on our trembling hands !" She came to the hoft of Erragon, like a beam of light to a cloud. In her right hand was feen a fparkling fliell : in her left, an arrow of gold. The firfl, the joyful mark of * Comhal the father of Fingal was flain In battle, againfi the tiihe of Morni,. the very day that Fmgal was born ; fo that he may, with propriety, be faid to have been horn in the midft of battles. + Neart-mor, great Jliength. Lora, ncify. jl Bof-mhina, foft and tender hand. She was the youngeft of Fingal's children. 248 The battle of LORA : of peace : the latter, the fign of war. Erragon brightened in her prefence, as a rock before the fudden beams of the fun ; v/hen they iffue from a broken cloud, divided by the roaring wind ! " Son of the diftant Sora," began the mildly-blufhing maid, " come to the feaft of Morven's king, to Selma's Ihaded walls. Take the peace of heroes, O warrior ! Let the dark fword reft by thy fide. Chufeft thou the wealth of kings ? Then hear the words of generous Aldo. He gives to Erragon an hundred fteeds, the children of the rein ; an hundred maids, from diftant lands ; an hundred hawks, with fluttering wing, that fly acrofs the fls:y. An hundred girdles * fliall alfo be thine, to bind high-bofom- ed maids : the friends of the births of heroes : the cure of the fons of toil. Ten fliells, ftudded with gems, fliall fliine in Sora*s towers : the bright water trembles on their ftars, and feems to be fparkling wine. They gladdened once the kings of the worldf , in the midft of their echoing halls. Thefe, O hero, fliall be thine; or thy white-bofonied fpoufe. Lorma fliall roll her bright eyes in thy halls ; though Fingal loves the generous Aldo : Fingal ! who never injured a hero, though his arm is ftrong !" " Soft voice of Cona !'* replied the king, " tell him, he fpreads his feaft in vain. Let Fingal pour his fpoils around me. Let him bend beneath my power. Let him give me the fwords of his fathers : the fliields of other times ; that my children may behold them in my halls, and fay, Thefe are the arms of Fingal." " Never fliall they behold them in thy halls 1" faid the rifmg pride of the maid. " They are in the hands of heroes, who never yielded in war. King of echoing Sora ! the ftorm is ga- thering on our hills. Doft thou not forefee the fall of thy people, fon of the diftant land ?'* She came to Selma's filent halls. The king beheld her down- ■''" SanQified girdles, till very lately, were kept in many families in the north of Scotland ; they were bound about women m labour, and were fuppofed to alleviate their pains, and to accelerate the biith. They were impreffed with feveral myfti- cal figures, and the ceremony of binding them about ihe woman's waifl, was ac- companied with words and gei^ures which Ihewed the cutlom to have come origi- ■ dly from the druids. ~ The. Roman emperors. A P O E M. 249 down-caft eyes. He rofe from his place, in his flrength. He fhook his aged locks. He took the founding mail of Trenmor, the dark-brown fliield of his fathers. Darknefs filled Selma's hall, when he ftretched his hand to his fpear: the ghofts of thoufands were near, and forefaw the death of the people. Terrible joy rofe in the face of the aged heroes. They ruflied to meet the foe. Their thoughts are on the deeds of other years ; and on the fame that rifes from death ! Now at Trathal's ancient tomb the dogs of the chace appeared. Fingal knew that his young heroes followed. He ftopt in the midft of his courfe. Ofcar appeared the lirft ; then Morni's fon, and Nemi*s race. Fercuth * (hew- ed his gloomy form. Dermid fpread his dark hair on wind. Offian came the laft. I hummed the fong of other times. My fpear fupported my fteps over the little llreams. My thoughts were of mighty men. Finga! ftruck his boffy fliield ; and gave the difmal fifn of war. A thoufand fwords, at once unfheathed, gleam on the waving heath. Three grey-haired fons of fong raife the tuneful, mournful voice. Deep and dark, with found- ing fteps, we rufli, a gloomy ridge, along: like the fhower of a ftorm, when it pours on a narrow vale. The king of Morven fat on his hill. The fun-beam of battle flew on the wind. The friends of his youth are near, with all their waving locks of age. Joy rofe in the hero's eyes when he beheld his fons in war; when he faw us, amidfl the lightning of fwords, mindful of the deeds of our fathers. Erragon came on, in his flrength, like the roar of a winter fiream. The battle falls around his fleps : death dimly ftalks along by his fide ! " Who comes," faid Fingal, " like the bounding roe, like the hart of echoing Cona ? His fliield glitters on hiti fide. The clang of his armour is mournful. He meets with Erragon in the flrife! Behold the battle of the chiefs ! It is like the contending of ghofts in a gloomy ftorm. But fallefl thou, fon of the hill, and is thy white bofom ftained with blood ? Weep, unhappy Lorma, Aido is no I i more !'* * Fear-cuth, the' fame with Fergus, tk man of tk zcord^ or commander of an ariry. 250 The battle of LORA: more !" The king took the fpear of his flrength. He was fad for the fail of Aido. He bent his dreadful eyes on the foe : but Gaul met the king of Sora. Who can relate the fip-ht of the chiefs ? The mighty ft ranger fell ! " Sons of Cona !'* Fingal cried aloud, " flop the hand of death. Mighty was he that is low. Much is he mourned in Sora! The ftranger will come towards his hall, and' wonder why it is fo filent. The king is fallen, O ftranger. The joy of his houfe is ceafed. Liften to the found of his woods. Perhaps his ghoft is murmuring there ! But he is far diftant, on Morven, beneath the fword of a foreign foe.'* Such were the words of Fingal, when the bard raifed the fong of peace. We ftopped our uplifted fwords. We fpared the feeble foe. We laid Erragon in a tomb. I raifed the voice of grief. The clouds of night came roll- ing down. The ghoft of Erragon appeared to fome. His face was cloudy and dark ; an half-formed figh is in his breafF. " Bleft be thy foul, O king of Sora ! thine arm was terrible in war !" LoRMA fat, in Aldo's hall. She fat at the light of a flaming oak. The night came down, but he did not re- turn. The foul of Lorma is fed ! " What detains thee, hunter of Cona ? Thou didft promife to return. Has the deer been diftant far ? Do the dark winds figh, round thee, on the heath ? I am in the land of ftrangers ; where is my friend, but Aldo ? Come from thy founding hills, 0 my beft beloved !'* Her eyes are turned tow^ard the gate. She liftens to the ruftling blaft. She thinks it is Aldo's tread. Joy rifes in her face ! But forrov/ returns again, like a thin cloud on the moon. " Wilt thou not return, my love ? Let me behold the face of the hill. The moon is in the eaft. Calm and bright is the breaft of the lake ! When fliall I behold his dogs, returning from the chace ? When fhall 1 hear his voice, loud and diftant, on the wind ? Come from thy founding hills, hunter of the woody Cona !" His thin ghoft appeared, on a rock, like a watry beam of feeble light ; when the moon rufties fudden from between two clouds, and the midnight ftiower is on the field ! She followed the empty form over the heath. She knew that her A P O E M. 251 her hero fell. I heard her approaching cries on the wind, like the mournful voice of the breeze, when it fighs on the grafs of tke cave ! She came. She found her hero ! Her voice was heard no more. Silent fhe rolled her eyes. She was pale, and wildly fad ! Few were her days on Cona. She funk into the tomb. Fingal commanded his bards ; they fung over the death of Lorma. The daughteis of Morven mourned her, for one day in the year, Vv'hen the dark winds of au- tumn returned ! Son of the diftant land * ! Thou dwellefl in the field of fame ! O let thy fong arife, at times, in praife of thofe who fell. Let their thin ghofts rejoice around thee ; and the foul of Lorma come on a feeble beam | : when thou lieft down to reft, and the moon looks into thv cave. Then (halt thou fee her lovely 5 but the tear is (till on her cheek ! * The poet addre/Tes himfelf to the Culdee. t Be thou on a moon-beam, O Morna, near the window of my reft; v/hen my thoughts are of peace ; and the din of arms is paH, FINGAL, B. I, T E M O R A : E M O R A: A N EPIC P O E M. In eight books. ARGUMENT. ];AIRBAR, the Ion ot Borbar-duthul, lord of Atha in Connaught, the mofl po* tent chief of the race of the Fir-blog, having murdered, at Temora the royal pa- lace, Cormac the fen of Artho, the young king of Ireland, ufurped the throne. Cormac was lineally defcended from Conar the fon of Trenmor, the great grand- father of Fingal, king of thofe Caledonians who inhabited the weftern coaft of Scotland, Fingal refented the behaviour of Cairbar, and refolved to pafs over into Ireland with an army, to re-eftablifli the royal family on the Irifli throne. Early intelligence of his defigns coming to Cairbar, he affembled lome of his tribes in Ulfler, and at the fame time ordered his brother Cathmor to follow him fpeedlly with an army, from Temora. Such was the fituation of affairs whea the Caledonian invaders appeared on the coaft of Ulfter. The poem opens in the morning. Cairbar is reprefented as retired from the reft of the army, when one of his fcouts brought him news of the landing of Fingal. He aflembles a council of his chiefs. Foldath the chief of Moma haughtily defpifes the enemy ; and is reprimanded v/armly by Malthos. Cairbar, after hearing their debate, orders a feaft to be prepared, to which, by his bard, Olla, he invites Ofcar the fon of Offian ; refolving to pick a quarrel with that hero, and to have fome pretext for killing him. Ofcar came to the feaft; the tjuarrel happened ; the followers of both fought, and Cairbar and Ofcar fell by mutual wounds. The noife of the battle reached Fmgal's army. The king came on, toibe relief of Ofcar, and the Irifli fell back to the army of Cathmor, who Was advanced to the banks of the river Lubar, on the heath of Moilena. Fingal, after mourning over his grandfon, ordered Ullin the chief of his bards to carry his body to Moiven, to be there interred. Night coming on, Althan, the fon of Conachar, relates to the king the particulars of the murder of Cormac. Fillan, the fon of Fingal, is fent to obferve the motions of Cathmor by night, which concludes the aflion of the firft day. The fcene of this book is a plain, near the hill of Mora, which rofe on the borders of the heath of Moilena, in Ulfter. E M O R A : A N EPIC POEM, BOOK I. THE blue waves of Erin roll In light. The moun- tains are covered with day. Trees fhake their duikj heads, in the breeze. Grey torrents pour their noify ftr earns. Two green hills, with aged oaks, furround a narrow" plain. The blue courfe of a flream is there. On its banks flood Cairbar* of Atha. His fpear fupports the king : the red eye of his fear is fad. Cormac rifes in his loul, with all his ghaflly wounds. The grey form of the youth appears in darknefs. Blood pours from his airy fide. Cairbar thrice threw his fpear on earth. Thrice he ftroak- ed his beard. His Heps are fhort. He often flops. He toifes his fmewy arms. He is like a cloud in the defart, varying its form to every blafl : the valleys are fad around, and fear, by turns, the fhower. The king, at length, re- fumed his foul. He took his pointed fpear. He turned his eye to Moi-lena. The fcouts of blue ocean came. They came, with fleps of fear, and often looked behind. Cair- bar knew that the mighty were near ! He called his gloomy chiefs. The founding fleps of his warriors came. They drew, at once, their fwords. There Morlathf flood, with dark- ened * Cairbar, the fon of Borbar-duthul, was defccnded lineally from Lathon the chief of the Fir-bloo;, the tirft colony who fettled in the fouth of Ireland. The Cael were in poffellion of the northern coaft of that kingdom, and the firft monarchs of Ireland were of their race. H^nce arofe thofe differences between the two nations, which terminated, at laft, in the murder of Cormac and the ulurpation of Cairbar, lord of Atha, who is mentioned in this place. t Mor-lath, great in the day of battle. Hidalla', mildly-looking hero. Cor-mar, expert at fea. tAdMh-os, Jlow to /peak. l^o\(\2.\.h, generous. Foldath, who is here llrongly marked, makes a great figure in the feque! of the poem. His fierce, uncomplying charafter is fuOained throughout. He leems, from a paffage in the fecond book, to have been Caii bar's gieatcfl confidant, and to have had a principal hand in the confpiracy againft Cormac king of Ireland, Hts tribe was one of the moft confiderabic of the race of the Fir-bloj. 256 T E M O R A: ened face. HIdalla's long hair fighs in wind. Red-haired Cormar bends on his fpear, and rolls his fide-long-looking eyes. Wild is the look of Malthos, from beneath two Ihaggy brows. Foldath Hands, like an oozy rock, that covers its dark fides with foam. His fpear is like Slimo- ra's fir, that meets the wind of heaven : his fhield is marked with the flrokes of battle : his red eye defpifes danger. Thefe, and a thoiifand other chiefs, furroundsd the king of Erin, when the fcout of ocean came, Mor- annai*, from flreamy Moi-lena. His eyes hang forward from his face : his lips are trembling, pale ! " Do the chiefs of Erin fland," he faid, " filent as the grove of evening ? Stand they, like a filent wood, and Fingal on the coaft ? Fingal, who is terrible in battle, the king of flreamy Morven !'' " Haft thou feen the warrior ?" faid Cairbar, with a figh. " Are his heroes many on the coafl ? Lifts he the fpear of battle ? Or comes the king in peace ?'* " In peace he comes not, king of Erin. I have feen his forward fpear |. It is a meteor of death. The blood of thoufands is on its fteel. He came firfl to the fhore, flrong in the grey hair of age. Full rofe his finewy limbs, as he flrode in his might. That fword is by his fide, which gives no fecond|| wound. His fliield is terrible, like the bloody moon, afcending through a florm. Then came OfTian king of fongs. Then Morni's fon, the firfl of men. Connal leaps forward on his fpear. Dermid fpreads his dark-brown locks. Fillan bends his bow, the young hunter of flreamy Moruth. But v/ho is that before them, like the terrible courfe of a itream ! It is the fon of Offian, bright between his locks ! His long hair falls on his back. His dark brows are half- inclofed in fleel. His fword hangs loofe on his fide. His fpear * M6r-anna], flrojig-breath; a very proper name for a fcout. t Mor-annal here alludes to the particular appearance of Fingal's fpear. If a man, upon his firfl landing in a ftrange country, kept the point of his fpear for- ward, it denoted in thofe days that he came in a bollile manner, and accordingly he was treated as an enemy ; if he kept the point behind him, it was a token of friendihip, and he was immediately invited to the feaft, according to the hofpitality of the times. [j I'his v/as the famous fword of Fingal, made by Luno, a fmith of Lochlin, and after him poetically called the fon of Luno: it is faid of this fword, that it killed a man at every ftroke ; and that Fingsl never ufcd it but in times oi the gr*atell inncrei. Book I. An EPIC POEM. 257 fpear glitters as he moves. I fled from his terrible eyes, king of high Temora !-' " Then fly, thou feeble man,'* faid Foldath's gloomy wrath. " Fly to the grey ftreams of thy land, fon of the little foul ! Have not I feen that Ofcar ? I beheld rhe chief in war. He is of the mighty in danger : but there are others who lift the fpear. Erin has many fons as brave, king of Temora of groves ! Let Foldath meet him in his ftrength. Let me flop this mighty fl:ream. My fpear is covered with blood. My fhield is like the wall of Tui a !" " Shall, Foldath * alone meet the foe ?" replied the dark-browed Malthos. " Are they not, on our coaft, like the waters of many llreams ? Are not thefe the chiefs, who vanquilhed Swaran, when the fons of green Erin fled? Shall Foldath meet their braveft hero ? Foldath of the heart of pride! Take the ftrength of the people! and let Malthos come. My fword is red with flaughter, but who has heard my words f ?" " Sons of green Erin,'* faid Hidalla ||, " let not Fingal hear your words. The foe migbt rejoice, and his arm be ftrong in the land. Ye are brave, O warriors ! Ye are tempells in war. Ye are like ftorms, which meet the rocks without fear, and overturn the woods. But let us move in our ftrength, flow as a gathered cloud ! Then fhall the mighty tremble; the fpear fliall fall from the hand of the valiant. We fee the cloud of death, they will fay, while fliadows fly over their face. Fingal will mourn in his age. He fliall behold hirs flying fame. The fteps of his chiefs will ceafe in Morven. The mofs of years fliall grow in Selma.'* Cairbar heard their words, in filence, like the cloud of a ftiower : it ftands dark on Cromla, till the ligbj;nlng burfts its fide. The valley gleams with heaven's flarne ; K k the * The oppofite cliaraflers of Foldath and Malthos are firongly reSrked in fubfe- quent parts of the poem. They appear ab.\rays in oppcrfition. The ieuds between »heir families, which were the fource of tiieii harred to one another, are men.tioned in other poems. t That is, who has heard my vaunting? He intended the expreffion as a rebuke to the felf-praife of Foldath. (I Hidalla was the chief of Clonra, a fmall diftricl on the hanks of the lake of Lego. The beauty of bis perjbn, his ^loquencs «nd genius tor postry, are af;«r-< ^^ards mentioned, 258 T E M O R A: the fpirits of the ilorm rejoice. So ftood the filent king of Temora : at length his words brake forth. " Spread the feail on Moi-!ena. Let my hundred bards attend. Thou, red-hair'd Olla, take the harp of the king. Go td Oicar chief of fwords. Bid Ofcar to our joy. To-day we fcaftand hear the fong: to-morrow, break the fpears! Tell him that I have raifed the tomb of Cathol * ; that bards gave his friend to the winds. Tell him that Cairbar has heard of his fame, at the flream of refounding Carun f , Cathmof j| my brother is not here. He is not here with his thoufanck, and our arms are weak. Cathmor is a foe to ftrife at the feafl ! His foul is bright as that fun ! But Cairbar mud fight with Ofcar, chiefs of the woody Te- mora! His words for Cathol were many: the wrath of Cairbar burns. He fhall fail on Moi-lena. My fame fhall rife in blood." Their faces brightened round with joy. They fpread over Moi-lena. The feafl of fliells is prepared. The fongs of bards arife. The chiefs of Selma heard their' joy §. We thought * Cathol the fon of Maronnan, or Moran, was murdered by Cairbar, for his at- fachment to the family of Cormac, He had attended Ofcar to the war of his- thona, where they contracted a great fiiendfhip for one another. Olcar, immedi- att'ly after the dtah of Cathol, had fent a formal challenge to Cairbar, which he prudently declined, but rcnccived a fecret hatred againll Ofcar, and liad before* hand connived to kill him at the feafl, to which he ht c invites him. + He alludes to the battle of Ofcar agaiaft Caros, king ofJJiips; who is luppol- ed to be the fame wnth Caraufuis the ufurper. II Cathmor, great in battle, the fon of Borbar-duthul, and brother of Cairbar king of Ireland, had, before the infurrection of the Firblog, paffed over into Inis- hupa, fuppofed to be a part of South-Britain, to aififl Conmor king of that place a ■,al»."i:b i3 \iZiLt Tr,i:v.un of the fabj- .; accc-mis to ihe imp robable ficuons of the n fables bear about them the marks cf iare tir foorce would be no dificult tafk; but a ^. .. ^ -.i no:e too far. * W^i u ceoins book, thai Catbriior was aear with an z':nr. "\\ i, tht tribes who attended him fell back to Cath- appears, had taken a refolation to farpnfe Fm^^al by ta to the iJ-1 cf Mora, \kiiich was m the front cf the " r iht moDoris of Czthmor. In this firuation were aSairs _^ irin.r'-be DCMfe of the appixjaching enemv, went to End oat iMSiti. ifjcij converfaiion nanirallv inirodiices the epifode, ccncerning Co- se Ion of Trennior, the arS In-a moaarch, which is fo neceffaiy to the an- ''din~ ibe fsoDdaiioa oi the rebt.'son and ufuTDatioii of Cs:rbar azd Cathmor. was the vojBc.^f* of the fons of Fm^, then living. He and Boiinina, meq- > ' I~£, were the crJv children of the kin^, by Claibo the ng of loji-tore, wboTT. he had taken to wife, after the death :-^;r.j:- •::- C; ^ . hter of Corxa^ iliC-Ccaar iur^ of Irs^nd. :3r; v&a. Book II. An- EPIC POEM. 273 his lifted ipf ar. *' Comeil thou, fon ci night, in peace ? or doft thou meet my -wrath r The foci ot Fingal ^le mJne. Speak, or fear my fteel. I iland not. in Tain, the fhield of Morven's race." " Never mayfl thou ftand in vain, fon of blue-eyed Clatho I Fingal begins to be alone. Darknefs gathers on the lafl: of his days. Yet he has rxo * fons who ought to fliine in war ; who ougbi to be two beams of light, near the fteps of kis departure." " Son of Fingal," replied the youth, " it is not long fmce I railed the fpear. Few are the marks of my fwcrd in war. Bur Fillan's foul is fire I The chiefs of Bcka f croud around the fliield of generous Cathmor. Their ga- thering is on that heath. Shall my fteps approach their hoft r I yielded to Ofcar alone, in the Urife of the race on Cona !" " FiLi.AN, thou {halt not approach their hoft: ; nor fall before thy fame is knov,-n. ^ly name is heard in fong : when needful, I advance. From the fkirts of night I Ciall view them, over all their gleaming tribes. Why. Fillan, didtl thou fpeak of Ofcar ! whv awake my figh ? I muft for^ret'i the warrior, till the ftorm is rolled awav. Sad- nefs ought not to dwell in danger, nor the tear m the eye of war. Our fathers forgot their fallen fons, till the noife of arms was pail. Then forrow returned to the tomb, and the fong of bards arofe. The memor)" cf thcfe who fell, ]M m quickly * That is, two foes in Ireland. Farsus, the fjcond fon of Finsal, was. 21 thai time, on an expedition, which is mectioned in (xiz of ihe le iTer poems. H;, ac- cording to iome tradiiions, was the znctiior ci Ytrzxn. the Ion of i-rc or Ar.ith, ccmraoniv called Fe^^its ikt JccxmAm. the Scotch hiliones. The beginninj of the reiin of Ferziis, over the Sects, is placed, bv the n;ofi approved '^nr^''> ci Scoc- land, ia the fourth vear of the fifdi a^e : a full centurv after the dearh of Offiin. The genealor-' of hisfamiiv is recorded thus b. ihs Hirh. ii,d Senadncs; Iz-i%s hlsc-Ar:aih, }thc-Chcii<:ail^ Mcc-Fcrfss, iLic-Fics-gcc^ es cuy : :'. e. F^r^s ti - 'ca cf Arcath, the ion of Ccmgal. the fon of Feixus. the '.oc of Fingal tki tzrsruzs. This fubjecl is treated more at lar^e, in the diffenatioQ aan;xed to the po^rrs. f The fouthem pans of Ireland went, for fome time, under the azicc o: 3>ls;a, from the Fir-boij or Beic^ of Bntain. who fettled a colonv there. RJ^ ligmiics c jjiZKr, from which proceeds ff-iaig, i, e. ictv-mtm ; fo called from their a£a^ bort-s. more than anv of the nei^ihbourin? nations. ,; After this paJTase, O'car is not mentiotied in all Tetnora. The fituadoris of the characters who act in the poem are fo intereftin^. that othere, fbrsi^n to tbs I'jDJect, coaid not be introduced ^^-ith anv luliie. Thou - - - - : :ol- lows, mav leem to Sow naturally enough from the convc • ec I have {hewn, in a preceding note, and, more at large, :.. .^^ , ^.w_: . . -j^cd ti) this rolleftion, thai the poet had a firthcr defljn in view. 274 T E M O R A : quickly followed the departure of war. "When the tu- mult of battle is pad, the foul, in filence, melts away, for the dead. " CoNAR* was the brother of Trathal, firft of mortal men. His battles were on every coaft. A thoufand ftreams rolled down the blood of his foes. His fame filled green Erin, like a pleafant gale. The nations gathered in Ullin, and they bleifed the king ; the king of the race of their fathers, frpm the land of Selma. " The chiefs f of the fouth were gathered, in the dark- nefs of their pride. In the horrid cave of Moma they mixed their fecret words. Thither often, they faid, the fpirits of their fathers came ; fliewing their pale forms from the chinky rocks ; reminding them of the honour of Bolga. " Why fliould Conar reign," they faid, *' the fon of refounding Morven ?" " They came forth, like the ftreams of the defart,with the roar of their hundred tribes. Conar was a rock before them : broken, they rolled on every fide. But often they returned, and the fons of Selma fell. The king flood, among the tombs of his warriors. He darkly bent his mournful face. His foul was rolled into itfelf ; and he had marked the place where he was to fall ; when Tra- thal came in his ftrength, his brother, from cloudy Mor- ven. Nor did he come alone. Colgar || was at his fide ; Colgar * Conar, the firft king of Ireland, was the fon of Trenmor, the great-grand-fa- tber of FiDgal. It was on account of this family-conneftion, that Fingal was en- gaged in fo many wars in the canfe of the race of Conar. Though few of the ac- tions of Trenmor are mentioned, he was the moft renowned name of antiquity. The moft probable opinion concerning him is, that he was the firU, who united the tribes of the Caledonians, and coaimanded them, in chief, againft the incurfions of the Romans. The genealotiifts of the NcHth have traced his family far back, and given a lift of his anceAors to Cuan-mor nan Ian, or Conmor of the fwords, who, according to them, was the firft who croifcd the great Jea, to Caledonia, from which circumftance his name proceeded, which fignifies graat ocean. Genealogies of fo ancient a date, however, are little to be depended upon. f The chiefs of the Fir-bolg v>'ho poffcffed themfelves of the fouth of Ireland, prior, perhaps, to the fettlement of the Cael of Caledonia, and the Hebrides, in Ulfier. From the fcquel, it appears that the Fir-bolg were, by much, the moft: powerful nation; and it is piobable that the Cael muft have fubmitted to them, had they not received fuccours from their mother-country under the command of Trathal. II Co\o.tr, Jiercely-looking warrior. Sulin-corma, ^/ae(?j'«. Colgar was the eldeft of the foils of Trathal ; Comhal, who was the father of Fingal, was very young \vhen the prefent expedition to Ireland happened. It is jemarkable, that, of al! I ' the Book IL An EPIC POEM. '2^15 Colgar the fon of the king and of white-bofomed Sulin- corma. " As Trenmor, clothed with meteors, defcends from the halls of thunder, pouring the dark florm before him over the troubled fea \ fo Colgar defcended to battle, and walled the echoing field. His father rejoiced over the hero : but an arrow came ! His tomb was raifed, without a tear. The king was to revenge his fon. He lightened forward in battle, till Bolo;a yielded at her ftreams ! " When peace returned to the land : when his blue waves bore the king to Morven ; then he remembered his fon, and poured the fiient tear. Thrice did the bards, at the cave of Furmono, call the foul of Colgar. They call- ed him to the hills of his land. He heard them, in his mid. Trathal placed his fword in the cave, that the fpirit of his fon might rejoice.'* " Colgar*, fon of Trathal !" faid Fillan, " thou wert renowned in youth ! But the king hath not marked my fword, bright-ftreaming on the field. I go forth with the croud : I return, without my fame. But the foe ap- proaches, Ofiian ! I hear their murmur on the hearh. The found of their fleps is like thunder, in the bofom of the ground ; when the rocking hills fhake their groves, and not a blaft pours from the darkened fky !'* OssiAN turned, fudden, on his fpear. He raifed the flame of an oak on high. I fpread it large, on Mora's wind. Cathmor flopt in his courfe. Gleaming he flood, like a rock, on whofe fides are the wandering of blafis ; which feize its echoing fides, and clothe them over with ice. So ftood the friendf of flrangers ! The winds lift his heavy the anceftors of Fingal, tradition makes the lead mention of Comhal ; '.vhich, pro- bably, proceeded from the unfortunate life and untimely death of that hero. From fome paffages, concerning him, we learn, indeed, that he was brave, but he v^auted conduft. * The poem begins here to mark ftrongly the charafler of Fillan, who is to make fo great a figure in the fequel. He has the impatience, the ambition and fire which are peculiar to a young; hero. Kindled with the fame of Colgar, he forgets his un- timely fall. From FiUan's exprelfions in this paflage, it woiild feem, th^t he was neglefled by Fingal, on account of his youth, f Cathmor is diRinguiilied, by this honourable title, on account of his generc- fity to ftiangers, which was fo great ai to be remarkable even in thofe day$ of hcf- pitality, 276 T E M O R A heavy locks. Thou art the tailed of the race of Erin, king of ilreamy Atha ! " First of bards," faid Cathmor, "Fonar*, call the chiefs of Erin. Call red-haired Cor mar ; dark-browed Pvlalthos ; the fidelong-iooking gloom of Maronan. Let the pride of Foldath appear. The red-rolling eye of Tur- lotho. Nor let Hidalia be forgot : his voice, in danger, is the found of a iliower, when it falls in the blafted vale, near Atha*s falling ftream. Pleafant is its found, on the plam, whiirt broken thunder travels over the il^y !'* TiiiiY came, in their clanging arms. They bent for- ward to his voice, as if a fpirit of their fathers fpoke from a cloud of night. Dreadful flione they to the light; like the fall of the flream of Brumof, when the meteor lights it, before the nightly ftranger. Shuddering, he flops in his to >' ney, and looks up for the beam of the morn ! '■ Why|j delights Foldath," faid the king, " to pour tlie blood of foes by night ? Fails his arm in battle, in the beams of day ? Few are the foes before us ; why fliould we clothe us in fliades ? The valiant delight to fliine, in the battles of their land ! Thy counfel was in vain, chief of Moma ! the eyes of Morven do not fleep. They are wa<^chful, as eagles, on their mofly rocks. Let each col- lefl;, beneath his cloud, the ftrength of his roaring tribe. To-ir'.orrow I move, in light, to meet the foes of Bolga ? Mlghly was he§ that is low, the race of Borbar-duthul !" " Not unmarked," faid Foldath, " were my fteps be- fore thy race. In light, I met the foes of Cairbar. The warrior praifed my deeds. But his Itone was raifed with- out * Fonar, the man of fang. Before the introduflion of Chriftianity a name was not impoled upon any pcrfon, till he had diftingulflied himfelf by feme remarkable ac- tion, from which his name Ibould be derived. t Brumo was a place of worfliip (Fing. b. 6.) in Craca, which is fuppofed to be one of the ifles of Shetland. It was thought, that the fpirits of the deceafed haunted it, by ni<;ht, which adds more terror to the defcription introduced here. The horrid circle of Brumo, where of im, they faid, the ghofs cf the dead howled rmnd the [tone of fear. \ From this palTage, it appears, that it was Foldath who had advifed the night- attack. The gloomy charatier of Foldath is properly contradcd to the generous, the opL-n Cathmor \ By this exclamation Cathmor intimates that he intends to revenue the death a£ his brother Cairbar. Book II. An EPIC POEM. 277 out a tear ! No bard fung* over Erin's king. Shall his foes rejoice along their moffy hilis ? No : they mud not rejoice ! He was the friend of Foldath ! Our words were mixed, in fecret, in Moma's fdent cave ; whilft thou, a boy in the field, purfuedfl the thiftle's beard. With Mo- ma's fons I fiiall rufh abroad, and find the foe, on his duiky hills. Fingal fliall lie, without his fong, the grey- haired king of Selma." " Dost thou think, thou feeble man," replied Cath- mor, half-enraged : " dofl thou think Fingal can fall, without his fame, in Erin ? Could the bards be filent, at the tomb of Selma's king ? The fong would burft in fe- cret ! the fpirit of the king would rejoice ! It is when thou ihalt fall, that the bard fliall forget the fong. Thou art dark, chief of Moma, though thine arm is a tempefl in war. Do I forget the king of Erin, in his narrow houfe ? My foul is not loft to Cairbar, the brother of my love ! I marked the bright beams of joy, which travelled over his cloudy mind, when I returned, with fame, to Atha of the ftreams." Tall they removed, beneath the words of the king, each to his own dark tribe ; where, humming, they rolled on the heath, faint-glittering to the ftars ; like waves, in a rocky bay, before the nightly wind. Beneath an oak, lay the chief of Atha. His fliield, a dufliy round, hung high. Near him., againfl a rock, leaned the fair ftrangerf of Inis-huna ; that beam of light, with wandering locks, from Lumon of the roes. At diflance rofe the voice of Fonar, with the deeds of the days of old. The fong fails, at times, in Lubar's growing roar ! " CrotharjI," begun the bard, " firfl dwelt at Atha's mofiy * To have no funeral elegy fung over his tomb, was, among the Celta?, reckoned the greateft mistortune that could befal a man; as his foul could not otherwife be admitted to the airy hall of his fathers. t "&.' tkt Jlranger of Inis-huna, is meant Sul-malla, the daughter of Conmo king of Inis-huna, the ancient name of that part of South-Britain, -.vhich is next to the Irifh coaft. She had followed Cathmor in difguife. Her fiory is related at large in the fourth book. II Crothar was the anceflor of Cathmor, and the firft of his funiiy who had fet- tled in Atha. It was, in his time, that the firfl: wars were kindled between the Fir- bolg and Gael. The propiicty of the epifode is evident; as the conteft which ori- ginally role between Crothar and Conar, i'ublifted after«Vilue eye. Foldath dif- patclits, here, Cormul to lie in ambufh behind the army ot" the Cakdonians. This ipcech fuits with the charafter of Foldath, which is, throiishout, h;iu^hty, and prefumptuous. Towards the latter end of this fpeech, we find the opinion of the times, concerning the unhappinels of the foals of thofe who wen buried without the funeral fong. This dottrine was inculcated by the bards, to make their order xcfpeftable and necelTary. 288 T E M O R A : ing at once in (Irife. Gleaming, on his own dark hill^ ftood Cathmor of flreamy Atha. The kings were like two fpirits of heaven, ftanding each on his gloomy cloud ; when they pour abroad the winds, and lift the roaring feas. The blue-tumbling of waves is before them, mark- ed with the paths of whales : they themfelves are calm and bright : the gale lifts flowly their locks of mill ! What beam of light hangs high in air ? What beam, but Morni's dreadful fword ! Death is ftrewed on thy paths, O Gaul ! I'hou folded them together in thy rage. Like a young oak, falls Tur-lathon*, with his branches round him. His high-bofomed fpoufe flretches her white arms, in dreams, to the returning chief, as fhe fleeps by gurgling Moruth, in her difordered locks. It is his ghoft, Oichoma. The chief is lowly laid. Hearken not to the winds for Turlathon's echoing fhield. It is pierced, by his ftreams. Its found is pall away. Nor peaceful is the hand of Foldath. He winds his courfe in blood. Connal met him in fight. They mixed their clanging fteel. Why fhould mine eyes behold them ! Connal, thy locks are grey ! Thou wert the friend of llrangers, at the mofs-covered rock of Dun-lora. When the ikies were rolled together, then thy feall was fpread. The flranger heard the winds without, and rejoiced at thy burnino- oak. Whv, fon of Duth-caron, art thou laid in blood ! The blafted tree bends above thee : thy fhield lies broken near. Thy blood mixes with the ftream ; thou breaker of the fliields ! OssiAN took the fpear, in his wrath. But Gaul rufhed forward on Foldath. The feeble pafs by his fide: his x\?ie is turned on Moma's chief. Now they had raifed rheir deathful fpears : unfeen an arrow came. It pierced the hand of Gaul. His fteel fell founding to earth. Young Fillan camef , with Cormul's fliield. He ftretched it large before the chief. Foldath fent his fliouts abroad, and kindled ■ Tur-lathon, broad trunk of a tree. Moruih, great Jlream. Oichaoina, mild ...id. Dun-lora, the hill of tkc noify fiream. Duth-caron, dark-brown man. ^ Lilian had been difpatcheci by Gaul to oppol'c Cormul, who had been fent by isjldaili (o lie in ambulh behnul ihc Caledonian armv. It appears thnt Fillan had killed Cormul, othcrwife he could not be fuppofed rohave poiTefled himfelf of th- fliieiu of that chief. Book III. An EPIC POEM. 289 idndled all the field ; as a blaft that lifts the wide-winged flame, over Lumon's echoing groves*. " Son of blue-eyed Clatho," faid Ganl, " O Fillan, thou art a beam from heaven ; that, coming on the trou- bled deep, binds up the tempeft's wing. Cormul is fallen before thee. Early art thou in the fame of thy fathers. Rulh not too far, my hero. I cannot lift the fpear to aid. 1 ftand harmlefs in battle. But my voice fhall be poured abroad. The fons of Selma Ihall hear, and remember my former deeds." His terrible voice rofe on the wind. The hofl bends forward in fight. Often had they heard him, at Strumon, when he called them to the chace of the hinds. He ftands tall, amid the war, as an oak in the fkirts of a ftorm, which now is clothed on high in mill ; then fliews its broad, waving head. The niufmg hunter lifts his eye, from his own rufhy field ! My foul purfues thee, O Fillan, through the path of thy fame. Thou rolledft the foe before thee. Now Fol- dath, perhaps, may fly : but night comes down with its clouds. Cathmor's horn is heard on high. The fons of Selma hear the voice of Fingal, from Mora's gathered mill:. The bards pour their fong, like dew, on the re- turning war. " Who comes from Strumon," they faid, " amid her wandering locks ? She is mournful in her fteps, and lifts her blue eyes toward Erin. Why art thou fad, Evir- choma | ? Who is like thy chief in renown ? He defcend- ed dreadful to battle ; he returns, like a light from a cloud. He raifed the fword in wrath : they flirunk be- fore blue-ihielded Gaul ! " Joy, like the ruftling gale, comes on the foul of the king. He remembers the battles of old ; the days, where- in his fathers fought. The days of old return on Fingal's mind, as he beholds the renown of his fon. As the fun rejoices, from his cloud, over the tree his beams have O o raifed, * Lumon, bending hill; a mountain in Inis-huna, or that part of South-Britain which is over-againfi the Irifh coaft. f Evir-choama, mild and (lately maid, the wife of Gaul. She was the daugh* ter of Cafdu-conglafs, chief of I-dronlo, one of the Hebrides, 290 T E M O 11 A: raifed, as it fliakes its lonely head on the heath ; lb joy ful is the king over Fillan ! " As the rolling of thunder on hills, when Lara*s fields are ftill and dark, fuch are the (teps of Selma, pleafant and dreadful to the ear. They return with their found, like eagles to their dark-browed rock, after the prey is torn on the field, the dun fons of the bounding hind. Your fathers rejoice from their clouds, fons of ftreamy Selma !'* Such was the nightly voice of bards, on Mora of the hinds. A flame rofe, from an hundred oaks, which winds had torn from Cormui's fteep. The feall is fpread in the midit ; around fat the gleaming chiefs. Fingal is there in his ftrength. The eagle-wing* of his helmet founds. The ruftling blafts of the weft, unequal, rufli thro* night. Long looks the king in filence round : at length, his words are heard. " My foul feels a want in our joy. I behold a breach among -my friends. The head of one tree is low. The fqually wind pours in on Selma. Where is the chief of Dun-lora ? Ought Connal to be forgot at the feaft ? When did he forget the ftranger, in the midft of his echoing hall ? Ye are filent in my prefence ! Connal is, then, no more. Joy meet thee, O warrior, like a ftream of light. Swift be thy courfe to thy fathers, along the roaring winds. Offian, thy foul is fire : kindle the me- mory of the king. Awake the battles of Connal, when firt'L he flione in war. The locks of Connal were grey. Kis days of youth f werQ mixed with mine. In one day Duth-caron firft ftrung our bows, againft the roes of Dun- lora. ^'' Many," I faid, " are our paths to battle, in green- valiied Erin. Often did our fails arife, over the blue- tumbling * The kings of Caledonia and Ireland had a plume of eagle's feathers, by way of ornament, in their helmets. It was from this diflinguifhed maik that OfiiaH knew Cathmor, in the fecond book. t After the death of Comhal, and during the ufurpation of the tribe of Morni, Fingal was educated in private by Duth-caron. It was then he contracted that in- timacy with Connal the fon of Duth-caron, which occalions his regretting fo much his fall. When Fingal was prown up, he foon reduced the tribe of Morni ; and, as it appears from the fubfequ;-nt cpifode, fent Duth-caron and his Ion Connal to the aid of Con.-.ac, the fon of Conar, king of Ireland, who vs'as driven to tfee laft extremity, by the infuireftions of the Fii-bolg. This epifode throws' farther light on the conteifts between the Gael and Fir-bolg. Book III. An EPIC POEM. 291 tumbling waves ; when we came, in other days, to aid the race of Conar. The ftrife roared once in AInecma, at the foam-covered ftreams of Duth-iila*. With Cormac defcended to battle Duth-caron from woody Seinia. Nor defcended Duth-caron alone ; his fon was by his iide, the long-haired youth of Connal lifting the fird of his fpears. Thou didft command them, O Fingal, to aid the king of Erin. " Like the burfting flrength of ocean, the fons of Bolga rullied to war. Colc-ullaf was before them, the chief of blue-ftreaming Atha. The battle was mixed on the plain, Cormac || flione in his own if rife, bright as the forms of his fathers. But, far above the reil, Duth-caron hewed down the foe. Nor flept the arm- of Connal, by his fa- ther's fide. Colc-ulla prevailed on the plain : like fcat- tered mill, fled the people of Cormac §. " Then rofe the fword of Duth-caron, and the fleel of broad-fhielded Connal. They fhaded their flying friends, like two rocks with their heads of pine. Night came down on Duth-illa : filent firode the chiefs over the field. A mountain-flream roared acrofs the path,, nor could Duth-caron bound over its courfe. " Why flands my fa- ther ?" faid Connal. " I hear the ruffling foe." '- Fly, Connal," he faid. " Thy father's Rrength be- * Duth-iila, a river in Connaught ; it lignilies, dark-rujlmg zi-ater. I Colc-ulia, jirm look in nadinefs; he was the brother of Borbar-duthul, the fa- tlicr of Cairbar and Cathmor, who, after the death of Cormac, the fon of Artho, fucceffively mounied the Iri ill throne. » I Cormac, the fon of Conar, the ferond king of Ireland, of the race of the Ca- ledonians. This infurreciion of the Fir- bolo- happened towards the latter end of the long reign of Cormac. He never poifeffed the Irifli throne peaceablv. The party of the family of Atha had made feveial attempts to overturn the fuccellion in the race of Conar, before they effefted'it, -in the minority of Cormao, the fon of Artho. Ireiand, from the moll ancifnt accounts concerning it, feems to have been always fo difhubed by domeflic commotions, that it is difficult to fay, whether it ever was, for any length of time, fubjeftto one monarch. It is certain, tliat eveiy province, if not every iuiuli uiitriCi, had its own king. One of thefe petty piinces alfumed, at times, the title of king of Ireland, and, on actoant of his fifperior force, or in cafes ef pubhc danger, was acknowledged by the rell as Inch ; but the fuc- cefhon from fatiiei to ion, does not appear to have been eflabliflicd. It was the d 1 villous aiTiongit tliemfelvcs, anfmg from the bad conilitution of their govem- nu at, that, at lait, fubjecicd the Irifli to a foreign yoke. • ^ , (j The inhabitants of UUin or Uilicr, who were of the race of the Caledonians, leem, alone, to have been the firm fiiends to the fucceflion in the family of Conar. The Fir-bolg were only fubjeQ to theia bv c.jnfhaint, and cmbiaced every oppor- tunity to throw off their vokc. 292 T E M O R A : gins to fail. I come wounded from battle. Here let me rell; in night." " But thou (halt not remain alone," faid Connal's burfting figh. " My fliield is an eagle's wing, to cover the king of Dun-lora." He bends dark above his father. The mighty Duth-caron dies. " Day rofe, and night returned. No lonely bard ap- peared, deep-mufmg on the heath : and could Connal leave the tomb of his father, till he fliould receive his fame .? He bent the bow againft the roes of Duth-ula. He fpread the lonely feaft. Seven nights he laid his head on the tomb, and faw his father in his dreams. He faw liim rolled, dark, in a blaft, like the vapour of reedy Lego. At length the fteps of Colgan * came, the bard of high Temora. Duth-caron received his fame, and bright- ened, as he rofe on the wind." " Pleasant * Colgan, the fon of Cathmul, was the principal bard of Corroac, king of Ire- land. The following dialogue, on the loves of Fingal and Ros-crana, may be af- cribed to him, ROS-CRANA. BY night, cAne a dream to Ros-crana! I feel my beating foul. No vifion of the forms of ihe dead, came to the blue eyes of Erin. But, rifingfrom the wave of the north, I beheld him brioht in his locks. 1 beheld the fon of the king. Mv beating foul is high. I laid my head down in night; again afcended the form. Why delayeil thou thy coming, young rider of flormy waves I But, there, far-diilant, he comes ; where fcas roll their green ridges in mill ! Young dweller of my foul ; why doil thou dela) — FINGAL. It was the foft voice of Moi-lena ! The pleafant breeze of the valley of roes! But why dofl thou hide thee in fliades !* Young love of heroes, rife. Are not thv fleps covered with light ? In thy groves thou appeareft, Ros-crana, like the fun in the gathering of clouds. Why doft thou hide thee in fhades ? Young love of he- ''°"' "'^- ROS-CRANA. My fluttering foul is high ! Let me turn from the fteps of the king. He has heard my fecret voice, and fhal! my blue eyes roll, in his prefence ? Roe of the hill of mofs, toward thy dwelling I move. Meet me, ye breezes of Mora, as I move through the valley of winds. But why fliould he afcend his ocean? Son of heroes, my foul is thine ! My lieps fhall not move to the defart : the light of Ros- cranatshere. FINGAL. It was the light tread of a ghofl, the fair dweller of eddying winds. Why de- ceiveft thou me, with thy voice? Here let me reft in fliadcs. Shouldft thou Uretch thy white arm, from thy grove, thou fun-beam of Cormac of Erin ! ROS-CRANA. He is gone ! and my blue-eyes are dim; faint rolling, in all my tears. But, there, I behold him, alone; king of Selma, my foul is thine. Ah me! what clanging of armour ! Cok-ulla of Atha ii near ! Book III. An EPIC POEM. 293 " Pleasant to the ear," faid Fingal, " is the praife of the kings of men ; when their bows are flrong in bat- tle ; when they foften at the fight of the fad. Thus let my name be renowned, when bards Ihall lighten my rifmg foul. Carril, fon of Kinfena ! take the bards, and raife a tomb. To-night let Connal dwell within his narrow houfe. Let not the foul of the valiant wander on the winds. Faint glimmers the moon on .Moi-Iena, through the broad-headed groves of the hill ! Raife ftones, beneath its beam, to all the fallen in war. Though no chiefs were they, yet their hands were ftrong in fight. They were my rock in danger : the mountain, from which I fpread my eagle-wings. Thence am I renowned. Carril, forret not the low !" Loud, at once, from the hundred bards, rofe the fcng of the tomb. Carril Pcrode before them : they are the murmur of ftreams behind his fteps. Silence dwells in the vales of Moi-lena, where each, with its own dark rill, is winding between the hills. I heard the voice of the bards, leil'ening, as they moved along. I leaned forward on my Ihield, and felt the kindling of my foul. Half-formed, the words of my fong burfl forth upon the wind. So bears a tree, on the vale, the voice of fpring around. It pours its green leaves to the fun. It lliakes its lonely head. The hum of the mountain-bee is near it : the hunter fees it, with joy, from the blailed heath. Young Fillan, at a diitance ftood. His helmet lay glit- tering on the ground. His dark hair is loofe to the blaft. A beam of light is Clatho's fon ! He heard the words of the king, with joy. He leaned forward on his fpear. " My fon," faid car-borne Fingal, " I faw thy deeds, and my foul v/as glad. The fame of our fathers, I faid, burfts from its gathering cloud. Thou art brave, fon of Clatho ; but headlong, in the flrife. So did not Fingal advance, though he never feared a foe. Let thy people be a ridge behind. They are thy ftrcngth in the field. Then dialt thou be long renowned, and behold the tombs of the old. — The memory of the pafl returns, my deeds in other years ; v/hen firfl I defcendcd from ocean on the green-valleyed ifle," We 294 T E M O R A. We bend towards the voice of the king. The moon looks abroad from her cloud. The grey-ikirted mill is near ; .the dwelling of the ghofts ! T E M O R A T E M O R A A N EPIC POEM. BOOK IV. ARGUMENT. THE fecond night continues. Fingal relates, at the feaft, his own firft expedition into Ireland, and his marriage with Ros-crana, the daughter of Cormac, king of that Ifland. The Irifh chiefs convene in the prefence of Cathmor. The fitua- tion of the king defcribed. The ftory of Sul-malla, the daughter of Conmor, kinCT of Inis-huna, who, in the difguife of a young warrior, had followed Cath- mor to the war. The fallen behaviour of Foldath, who had commanded in the battle of the preceding day, renews the difference between him and Malthos; but Cathmor, interpofing, ends it. The chiefs feaft, and hear the fong of Fonar the bard. Cathmor returns to reft, at a diftance from the army. The ghoft of his brother Cairbar appears to him in a dream ; and obfcurely foretels the ilTue of the war. The foliloquy of the king. He difcovers Sul-malla. Morning comes. Her foliloquy doles the book. * " T>ENE ATH an oak," faid the the king, " I fat on -O Selma's ftreamy rock, when Connal rofe, from the fea, with the broken fpear of Duth-caron. Far-dif- tant flood the youth. He turned away his eyes. He re- membered the fteps of his father, on his own green hills. I darkened in my place. Dulky thoughts flew over my foul. The kings of Erin rofe before m.e. I half-unflieath- ed the fword. Slowly approached the chiefs. They lifted up their filent eyes. Like a ridge of clouds, they wait for the burfting forth of my voice. My voice was, to them, a wind from heaven, to roll the mill away. " I BADE * This epifode has an imtnediate connexion with the ftory of Connal and Duth- earon, in the latter end of the third book. Fingal, fitting beneath an oak, near the palace of Selma, difcovers Connal juft landing from Ireland. The danger •which tlireatened Cormac king of Ireland induces him to fail immediately to that ifland. The ftory is introduced, by the king,, as a pattern for the future behaviour of Fillan, whofe raflinefs in the preceding battle is reprimanded. 2g6 T E M O R A : " I BADE my white fails to rife, before the roar of Co- na's wind. Three hundred youths looked, from their waves, on Fingal's boHy fhield. High on the mafl it hung, and marked the dark-blue fea. But when night came down, I flruck, at times, the warning bofs: I ftruck, and looked on high, for fiery-haired Ul-erin *. Nor ab- fent was the ftar of heaven. It travelled red between the clouds. I purfued the lovely beam, on the faint-gleaming deep. With morning, Erin rofe in mift. We came into the bay of Moi-lena, where its blue waters tumbled, in the bofom of echoing woods. Here Cormac, in his fe- cret hall, avoids the llrength of Colc-ulla. Nor he alone avoids the foe. The blue-eye of Ros-cnina is there : Ros- crana f, white-handed maid, the daughter of the king ! " Grey, on his pointlefs fpear, came forth the aged fteps of Cormac. He fmiled, from his waving locks ; but grief was in his foul. He faw us few before him, and his Ugh arofe. *' I fee the arms of Trenmor,'* he faid; " and thefe are the fteps of the king ! Fingal ! thou art a beam of light to Cormac's darkened foul. Early is thy fame, my fon : but ftrong are the foes of Erin. They are like the roar of ftreams in the land, fon of car-borne Com- hal!" " Yet they may be rolled || away," I faid, in my rifmg foul. " We are not of the race of the feeble, king of blue-fhielded hofts ! Why fhould fear come amongll us, like a ghoft of night? The foul of the valiant grows, when foes increafe in the field. Roil no darknefs, king of Erin, on the young in war 1'* '^ The burfting tears of the king came down. He feiz- ed my hand in fdence. " Race of the daring Trenmor 1" .at length he faid, " I roll no cloud before thee. Thou burned in the fire of thy fathers. I behold thy fame. It marks * Ul-erln, the guide to Ireland, a flar known by that name in the days of Fingal, and verv ufeful to thofe who failed, by nicht, from the Hebrides, or Caledonia, to the coai'l of Ulficr. + Ros-crana, t/ie beam cif the rifing fun; fhe was the mother of OfTian. The Infli bards relate ftrange fittions concerning; this princefs. Their flories, however, concerning Fingal, if they mean him by Fion Mac-Cmnnal, are fo inconfiftent and notor.oufly fabulous, that they do not cleferve to be mentioned ; for they evidently bear, along v.itb them, the marks of late invention. II Cormac had faid that (he foes were like the roar of Jlreavis, and Fingal conti- nues the metaphor. The fpeech of the young hero is fpiritcd, and confiflent with that icuatc iutrepiditv, which eminently difilngulfiies his charafter throughout. Book IV. An EPIC POEM. 297 marks thy courfe In battle, like a flream of light. But wait the coming of Cairbar*: my fon mull join thy fword. He calls the fons of Erin, from all their diltant flreams." " We came to the hall of the king, where it rofe in the midft of rocks, on whole dark fides, were the marks of dreams of old. Broad oaks bend around with their mofs. The thick birch is waving near. Half-hid, in her fliady grove, Ros-crana raifes the fong. Her white hands move on the harp. I beheld her blue-rolling eyes. She was like a fpirit f of heaven half-folded in the ikiit of a cloud ! " Three days we feaft at Moi-lena. She rifes bright in my troubled foul. Cormac beheld me dark. He gave the white-bofomed maid. She comes, with bending eye, amid the wandering of her heavy locks. She came ! — Straight the battle roared. Colc-ulla appeared : I took my fpear. My fword rofe, with my people, againfl the ridgy foe. Alnecma fled. Colc-ulla fell. Fingal return- ed with fame. P p " Re- * Cairbar, the fon of Cormac, was afterwards king of Ireland. His rei'^n was fliort. He was fucceeded by his fon Artho, the father of that Coiuiac who was iuurdered by Cairbar tlie Ion of Borbar-duthul. Cairbar, the fon of Cormac, long after his fon Artho was grown to man's cftatc, had, by his wife Beltanno, another Ion, whole name was Ferad-artho. He was the only one remaining of the race of Conar the firft king ot Ireland, when Fingal's expedition againlt Cairbar the foa of Borbar-duthul happened. See more of Ferard-urtho in the eighth book. t The attitude of Ros-crana is illuftrated by this fimile ; for the iiic-as of iholl; times, concerning the fpirlts of the deceafcd, were not fo gloomy and difagreeablc, as thofe of fucceeding ages. The fpirits of women, it was itippoled, retained ihac beauty, which they polfelfed while living, and tranfported themfelves, fiom place to place, with that gliding motion, which Homer alcribcs to the gods. The dc- Icnptions which poets, lefs ancient than Ofilan, have left us of thole beautihil fi- gures, that appeared fometimcs on the hills, are elegant and piclureltiuc. They compare them to the rain-bow on Jlreams ; or, the gliding ofjun-beams on the hilh. A chief, who lived three centuries ago, returning from the war, underliood thdt his wife or miftrefs was dead. A bard introduces him fpeaking the following foli- loquy, when he came within fight of the place, where he had left her, at his de- parture. " My foul darkens In forrow. I behold not the fmoke of my hall. Xo grey - dog bounds at my ftreams. Silence dwells in the valley of trees. " Is that a rain-bow on Crunath ? It flies ; and the fkv is daik. Again, thoa moveft, bright, on the heath, thou fun-beam clothed in a fliower I Huh! it is Ihc, my love ; her gliding courfe on the bofom of winds !"' In fucceeding times the beauty of Ros-crana palfed into a proveib; ami the high- eft compliment, that could be paid to a woman, was to compare her pcvlbn with the daughter of Cormac. 'S tu fein an Ros-crana. Siol Chormaec na n'ioma Ian, 2q8 T E M O R a : ■'Zf " Renowned is he, O Fillan, who fights, in the ftrength of his hoil. The bard purfues his fteps, through the land of the foe. But he who fights alone, few are his deeds to other times ! He fliines, to-day, a mighty light ; to- morrow, he is low. One fong contains his fame : his name is on one dark field. He is forgot ; but where his tomb fends forth the tufted grafs." Such were the words of Fingal, on Mora of the roes. Three bards, fiom the rock of Cormul, pour down the pleafing fong. Sleep defcends, in the found, on the broad- Ikirted hod. Carrii returned, with the bards, from the tomb of Dun-lora's chief. The voice of morning Ihall not come, to the dufky bed of Duth-caron. No more fiialt thou hear the tread of roes, around thy narrow houfe ! As roll the troubled clouds, round a meteor of night, when they brighten their fides, with its light, along the heaving fea ; fo gathers Erin, around the gleaming form of Cathmor. He, tall in the midft, carelefs lifts, at times, his fpear ; as fwells or falls the found of Fonar's diftant harp. *Near him leaned, againfl a rock, Sul-mallaf of blue eyes, the white-bofomed daughter of Conmor, king of Inis-huna. To his aid came blue-fhielded Cathmor, and rolled his foes away. Sul-malla beheld him ftately in the hall of feafls. Nor carelefs rolled the eyes of Cath- mor on the long-haired maid ! rp * In order to illuflrate this pafTage, I fliall give, here, the hiflory on which it is founded, as I have gathered it froin tradition. The nation of the Fir-bolg who inhabited the fouth of Ireland, being originally defcended from the Belg£, who poffcffed the fouth and fouth-weft coaft of Britain, kept up, for many ages, an ami- cable conefpondence with their mothei-country ; and fent aid to the Britilh Beige, when liiey were prefTed by the Romans or other new-comers from the continent. Con-nior, king of Inis-huna, (that part of South-Britain which is over againfl the Irifh coaft) being attacked, by what enemy is not mentioned, fent for aid to Cair- lar, lord of Atha, the moft potent chief of the Fir-bolg. Cairbar difpatched his brother Cathmor to the affiRance of Con-mor. Cathmor, after various viciffitudes of fortune, put an end to the war, by the total defeat of the enemies of Inis-huna, and returned in triumph to the refidence of Con-mor. There, at a feaft, Sul-malla, the daughter of Con-mor, fell defperately in love with Cathmor, who, before her pallion was difclofed, was recalled to Ireland by his brother Cairbar, upon the news of the intended expedition of Fingal to re-ellablifh the family of Conar on the Iiini ihione. The wind being contrary, Cathmor remanicd, for three days, in a neighbouring bay, during which time Sul-malla difguiled hcrlcll in the habit of a young warrior, and came to otfer him her fervice, in the war. Cathmor accept- ed of the propofal, failed for Ireland, and arrived in UHter a few days before the death of Cairbar. * Sul-malla,_/Zoa7v-m'/i'«^ fva. Caon-mor, miUl aiul tall. Inis-huna, green ijland. Book IV. An EPIC POEM. 599 The third day arofe, when Fithil* came, from Erin of the ftreams. He told of the lifting up of the fliieldf in Selma : he told of the danger of Cairbar. Cathmov raifed the fail at Cluba : but the winds were in other lands. Three days he remained on the coaft, and turned his eyes on Conmor's halls. He remembered the daughter of ftrangers, and his figh arofe. Now, when the winds awaked the wave, from the hill came a youth in arms ; to lift the fword with Cathmor, in his echoing fields. It was the white-armed Sul-malla. Secret fhe dwelt beneath her helmet. Her fleps were in the path of the king : on him her blue eyes rolled with joy, when he lay by his roar- ing ftreams ! But Cathmor thought, that, on Lumon, Ihe ftill purfued the roes. He thought that, fair on a rock, Ihe ftretched her white hand to the wind ; to feel its courfe from Erin, the green dwelling of her love. He had pro- mifed to return, v/ith his white-bofomed fails. The maid is near thee, O Cathmor ! leaning on her rock. The tall forms of the chiefs (land around ; all but dark- browed Foldathjj. He leaned againft a diftant tree, rolled into his haughty foul. His buihy hair whiftles in wind. At times, burlls the hum of a fong. He ftruck the tree, at * Fithil, an inferior bard. It mav either be taken here for the proper name of a man, or in the hteral fenfe, as the bards were the heralds and meilengeis or thole times. Cathmor, it is probable, was abfent, when the rebellion of his brother Cairbar, and the afTaffination of Cormac, king of Ireland, happened. Cathmor and his followers had only arrived, from Inis-lmna, three days before the death of Cairbar, which lufficicntly clears his charafler from any imputation ot being con- cerned in the conipiracy, with his brother. t The ceremony which was ufed by Fingal, when he prepared for an expedition, is related thus in tradition. A bard, at midnight, went to the hall, where the tribes feafled upon folemn occafions, raifed the war fong, and thrice called the Ipi- rits of their deceafcd ancellors to come, on their clouds, to behold the aftion"; ot their children. He then fixed \\\c field of Trenmor on a tree, on the rock of Sel- ma, ftriking it, at times, with the blunt end of a fpear, and Cnging the wai-long between. Thus he did, for three fuccefTive nights, and, in the mean time, mc'- fengers were difpatched to call together the tribes ; or, to ufe an ancient expreflion, to call them from all their jlreanu. This phrafe alludes to the fituation of tUt; r.-fi- dences of the clans, which were generally fixed in valleys, where the torrents ot the neighbouring mountains were coUefted into one body, and became large ftreams or rivers. The If ting up of the field, was the phrafe for beginning a war, |] The furly attitude of Foldath is a proper preamble to his aher-behaviour. Chaffed with the difappointmcnt of the viftory which he piomifed himlclt, he be- comes paffionate and over-bearing. The quarrel which fucceeds between him and Malthos, is introduced, to raife the charafter of Cathmor, whofe fuperior worth fhines forth, in his manly manner of ending the difference between the chiefs. 300 T E M O R A; at length, in wrath ; and rudied before the king. Calm and ftately, to the beam of the oak, arofe the form of young Hidalla. His hair falls round his blufhing cheek, in wreaths of waving light. Soft was his voice in Clon-ra*, in the valley of his fathers. Soft was his voice, when he touched the harp in the hall, near his roaring ftreams ! " King of Erin," faid Hidalla, " now is the time to feaft. Bid the voice of bards arife. Bid them roll the nigkt away. The foul returns, from fong, more terrible to war. Darknefs fettles on Erin. From hill to hill bend the fl^irted clouds. Far and grey, on the heath, the dread- ful ftrides of ghofls are feen : the ghofts of thofe who fell, bend forward to their fong. Bid, O Cathmor, the harps to rife, to brighten the dead, on their wandering blafts." " Be all the dead forgot," faid Foldath's burfting wrath. " Did not I fail in the field ? Shall I then hear the fong ? Yet was not my courfe harmlefs in war. Blood was a flream around my fteps. But the feeble were behind me. The foe has efcaped from my fword. In Clonra's vale touch thou the harp. Let Dura anfwer to the voice of Hidalla. Let fome maid look, from the wood, on thy long, yellow locks. Fly from Lubar's echoing plain. This is the field of heroes !" " King of Erinf," Malthos faid, " it is thine to lead in war. Thou art a fire to our eyes, on the dark-brown iield. Like a blail thou haft paft over hofts. Thou haft laid them low in blood. But who has heard thy words, returning from the field ? The wrathful delight in death : their remembrance refts on the wounds of their fpear. Strife is folded in their thounhts : their words are ever o Jieard. Thy courfe, chief of Moma, was like a troubled itream. The dead were rolled on thy path : but others -alfo lift the fpear. We were not feeble behind thee ; but the foe was ftrong." Cathmor * Claon-rath, winding fidi. The tli are feldom pronounced audibly in the Ga- lic Ian;2;uaoc. t This I'p^cch of Malthos is, throughout, a fevere reprimand to the blunering behaviour of Foidath, Book IV. An EPIC POEM. 301 Cathmor beheld the rifing rage, and bending for- ward, of either chief; for, half-unfheathed, they held their fwords, and rolled their filent eyes. Now would they have mixed in horrid fray, had not the wrath of Cathmor burn- ed. He drew his fword : it gleamed, through night, to the high-flaming oak ! " Sons of pride !" faid the king, " allay your fwelling fouls. Retire in night. Why fbould my rage arife ? Should I contend with both in arms ? It is no time for ftrife ! Retire, ye clouds at my feail. A- wake my foul no more." They funk from the king on either fide ; like * two columns of morning mift, when the fun rifes between them, on his glittering rocks. Dark is their rolling on either fide ; each toward its reedy pool. Silent fat the chiefs at the feail. They look, at times, on Atha's king, where he ftrode, on his rock, amid his fettling foul. The hofl lie along the field. Sleep defcends on Moi-lena. The voice of Fonar afcends alone, beneath his diftant tree. It afcends in the praife of Cathmor, fon of Larthonf of Lumon. But Cathmor did not hear his praife. He lay at the roar of a ftreani. The ruIUing breeze of night flew over his whiftling locks. His brother came to his dreams, half-feen from his low-hung cloud. Joy rofe darkly in his face. He had heard * This comparifon is favourable to tlie fuperioritv of Cathmor over his two cliiefs. I fhall ilhiftratc this pafl"ar:;e with another from a fragment of an ancient poem, juft now in my hands. " As the fun is above the vapours, winch hir> beams have raifed; fo is the foul of the king above tiie fons of fear. They roll dark be- low him ; he rejoices in the robe of his beams. But when feeble deeds wander on the foul of the kinp^, he is a darkened fun rolled alono; the fky ; the valley is fad below : flowers wither beneath the drops of the night." t Lear-thon, ytvz wave, the name of the chief of that colony of the Fir-bo!g, which firft migrated into Ireland. Larthon's full fettlement in that country is re- lated in the feventh book. He was the anceflor of Cathmor ; and is here called Larthon of Lumon, from a high hill of that name in Inis-huna, the ancienr Icat of the Fir-bolg. The character of Cathmor is preferved. He had mentioned, in the firft book, the averfion of that chief to praife, and we find him here lying at the fide of a ftream, that the noife of it might drown the voice of Fonar, who, accord- ing to the cuftom of the times, fung his eulogium in his evening fong. Though other chiefs, as well as Cathmor, might be averfe to hear their own praife, we find it the univerfal policy of the times, to allow the bards to be as extravagant as they pleafed in their encomiums on the leaders of armies, in the prefence of their peo- ple. The vulgar, who had no great ability to judge for themfelves, received the chara£lers of their priuces, entirely upon the faith of their bards. 302 T E M O R A: heard the fong of Carril*. A blaft fuflalned his dark- Ikirted cloud ; which he feized, in the bofom of night, as he rofe, with his fame, towards his airy hall. Half- mixed with the noife of the ilream, he poured his feeble words. " Joy meet the foul of Cathmor. His voice was heard on Moi-lena. The bard gave his fong to Cairbar. He tra- vels on the wind. My form is in my father's hall, like the gliding of a terrible light, which darts acrofs the defart, in a flormy night. No bard (hall be wanting at thy tomb, when thou art lowly laid. The fons of fong love the va- liant. Cathmor, thy name is a pleafant gale. — The mourn- ful founds arife ! On Lubar's field there is a voice ! Louder Hill, ye lliadowy ghofls ! The dead were full of fame. Shrilly fwells the feeble found ! The rougher blaft alone is heard ! Ah, foon is Cathmor low !" Rolled into himfelf, he flew, wide on the bofom of winds. The old oak felt his departure, and Ihook its whiftling head. Cathmor ftarts from reft. He takes his deathful fpear. He lilts his eyes around. He fees but dark-lkirted night. " It I was the voice of the king," he faid. " But now his form is gone. Unmarked is your path in the air, ye children of the nighc. Often, like a refleded beam, are ye feen in the defart wild : but ye retire in your blafls, before our fteps approach. Go then, ye feeble race I Knowledge with you there is none ! Your joys are weak, and like the dreams of our reft, or the light-winged thought, that flies acrofs the foul. Shall Cathmor foon be low ? darkly laid in his narrow houfe ? where no morning * Carril, the fon of Kinfena, by the orders of OITian, fung the funeral elegy at the tomb of Cairbar. See the fecond book, towards the end. In all thefe poems, the vifits of <^ho{ls, to their living friends, are lliort, and their language obfcure, both which circumllances tend to throw a folemn gloom on thefe fupernatural fcenes. Towards the latter end of the fpeech of the ghoft of Cairbar, he foreteis the death of Cathmor, by enumerating thofe fignals which, according to the opi- nion of the times, preceded the death of a perfon renowned. It was thought that the ghofls of deceafed bards fung, for three nights preceding the death (near the place where his tomb was to be raifed) round an unfubllantial figure which repre- iented the body of the perfon who was to die. t The foliloijuv of Cathmor fuits the magnanimity of his charafter. Though fta3;gered at firll witii the prediclion of Cairbar's ghoft, he foon comforted himfelf with ilic agreeable profpeft of his future renown ; and, like Achilles, prefers a fliort and glorious life, to an obfcure length of years in retirement and cafe. Book IV. An EPIC POEM. 3^3 morning comes, with her half-opened eyes ? Away, thou fhade ! to fight is mine ! All further thought, away ! I rufli forth, on eagle-wings, to feize my beam of fame. In the lonely vale of ftreams, abides the narrow * foul. Years roll on, feafons return, but he is ftill unknown. In a blafl comes cloudy death, and lays his grey head low. His ghoft is folded in the vapour of the fenny field. Its courfe is never on hills, nor moflfy vales of wind. So Ihall not Cathmor depart. No boy in the field was he, v/ho only marks the bed of roes, upon the echoing hills. My iffuing forth was wdth kings : my joy, in dreadful plains ; where broken hofls are rolled away, like feas before the wind.'* So fpoke the king of Alnecma, brightening in his fifing foul. Valour, like a pleafant flame, is gleariiing within his breaft. Stately is his ftride on the heath ! The beam of eaft is poured around. He faw his grey hoft on the field, wide-fpreading their ridges in light. He rejoiced, like a fpirit of heaven, whofe Heps come forth on the feas, when he beholds them peaceful around, and all the winds are laid : but foon he awakes the waves, and rolls them large to fome echoing fliore. On the rufliy bank of a ftream, flept the daughter of Inis-huna. The helmet had fallen from her head. Her dreams were in the lands of her fathers. There, morning is on the field. Grey ftreams leap down from the rocks. The breezes, in Ihadowy waves, fly over the rufliy fields. There, * An indolent and unwarlike life was held in extreme contempt. Whatever si philofopher may fay, in praife of quiet and retirement, I am far from thinking, but they weaken and debafe the human mind. When the faculties of the foul air not exerted, they lofe their vigour, and low and circumfcribed notions take the place of noble and enlarged ideas. Aftion, on the contrary, and the %'icifiitudcs of fortune which attend it, call forth, by turns, all the powers of the mind, and, by exercifing, ftrengthen them. Hence it is, that in great and opulent Hates, when property and indolence are fecuicd to individuals, we feldom meet with that ftrength of mind, which is fo common in a nation, not far advanced in civilization. It is a curious, but juft obfeivation, that great kingdoms feldom produce great cha- rafters, which mull be attributed altogether to that indolence and diflipation, which are the iiileparable companions of too much property and fecurity. Rome, it is certain, had more real great men within it, when its power was conHned within the narrow bounds of Lamm, than when its dominion extended over ail the known world; and one petty fiate of the Saxon heptarchy had, perhaps, as much genuine fpirit in it, as the two Britilh kingdoms united. As a ftate they are much morc powerful than their ancellors, but they would lofe by comparin-; iad'.vidu;iU wuU ihcm. 304 T E xVI O R A : There, is the found that prepares for the chace. There^ the moving of warriors from the hall. But tall, above the reft, is feen the hero of ftreamy Atha. He bends his eye of love on Sul-malla, from his ftately fteps. She turns, with pride, her face away, and, carelefs, bends the bow. Such were the dreams of the maid, when Cathmor of Atha came. He faw her fair face before him, in the midft of her wandering locks. He knev/ the maid of Lumon. What fhould Cathmor do? His fighs arife. His tears come down. But ftraight he turns away. " This is no time, king of Atha, to awake thy fecret foul. The battle is rolled before thee, like a troubled ftream." He ftruck that warning bofs*, wherein dwelt the voice of war. Erin rofe around him, like the found of eagles- wings. Sul-malla flarted from jQeep, in her difordered locks. She feized the helmet from earth. She trembled in her place. " Why fhould they know, in Erin, of the daughter of Inis-huna ?" She remembered the race of kings. The pride of her foul arofe ! Her fteps are be- hind a rock, by the blue-winding ftream | of a vale ; where dwelt the dark-brown hind, ere yet the war arofe. Thither came the voice of Cathmor, at times, to Sul- malla's ear. Her foul is darkly fad. She pours her words: on wind. " The dreams of Inis-huna departed. They are dif- perfed from my foul. I hear not the chace in my land. I am concealed in the fkirt of war. I look forth from my cloud : no beam appears to light my path. I behold ray warrior low ; for the broad-fhielded king is near, he that overcomes in danger, Fingal from Selma of fpears ! Spirit of departed Conmor ! are thy fteps on the bofom of winds ? Comeft thou, at times, to other lands, father of fad Sul-malla ? Thou doft come ! I have heard thy voice at night j while yet I rofe on the wave to Erin of the ftream s. * In order to undcrflnnd this'paffage, it is nectfTary to look to the defcrip'ion of Cathrr.or's ihield in the fcventh book. This fliitld had feven principal bodes, the lound of each of which, when flruck with a fpear, conveyed a particular order from the king to his tribes. The found of one of them, as here, was the fignal fov the army to affemblc. f This ^A\1S not the valh-y of Lona to which Sul-malla afterwards retired. Book IV. An EPIC POEM. onr. flreams. The ghofts of fathers, they fay *, call away the fouls of their race, while they behold them lonely in the midil of woe. Call me, my father, away ! When Cath- mor is low on earth, then ffiall Sul-malla be lonely in the midft of woe !" * Con-mor, the father of Sul-raalia, was killed in that war, from which Cnthmor delivered Inis-huna. Lormar his ion fucceeded Conmor. It was the opinion of the times, when a perfon was reduced to a pitch of miicry, which could aduiii of no alleviation, tiiat the gholls of his anceflors raZ/f^/wi-yoj^ cawy. This fupeina- lural kind of death was called the voice af the dead; and is believed by the fupeittiti- ous vulgar to this day. There is no people in the world, peihaps, who give more univerfal credit to ap- paritions, and the vifits of tlie t;hofls of the deccaXtd to their friends, thaji the an- cient Scots. This IS to be attributed as much, at leaft, to the fituation of the coun- try they poITefs, as to that credulous diipolition which diftinguiflies an unenlighten- ed people. As their bafincfs was feeding of cattle, in dark and extenfive defarts, fo their journeys lay over wide and unfrequented heaths, where, often, they were obliged to fleep in the open air, amidft the whiftling of winds, and roar of water- falls. The gloominefs of the fcenes around them was apt to beget that meiancholv dilpofition •f mirid, which mod readily receives impreffioES of the extraordinary and fupernatural kind. Falling afleep in this gloomy mood, and their dreams be- ing diliurbed by the noife of the elements around, it is no matter of wonder, that they thought they heard the xioice of the dead. This voice of the dead, however, was, perhaps, no more than a fhriller whiftle of the winds in an old tree, or in the chinks of a neighbouring rock. It is to this caufe I afcribe thofe many and im- probable tales of ghofls, which we meet with in the Highlands; for, in other re- ipetls, we do not find that the Inhabitants are more credulous than their neighbours. 0 q TEMORA >^ i r E M O R A: A N EPIC POEM. B O O K V. ARGUMENT. THE poet, alter a Iliort addrefs to the harp of Cona, defcrlbes the arrangement of both armies on either fide of the river Lubar. Fingal gives the command to Fil- lan ; but, at the fame time, orders Gaul, the fon of Morni, who had been wounded in the hand in the preceding battle, to aflill him with his counfel. The army of the Fir-bolg is commanded by Foldath, The general onfet is defcribed. The great actions of Fillan. He kills Rothmar and Culmin. But when Fillan conquers, in one wing, Foldath prefles hard on the other. He wounds Dernjiid, the fon of Duthno, and puts the whole wing to fliglit. Dermid deliberates with himfelf, and, at lafl, refolves to put a flop to the progrefs of Foldath, by engag- ing him in fingle combat. When the two chiefs were approaching towards one another, Fillan came fuddenly to the relief of Dermid ; engaged Foldath,' and killed him. The behaviour of Malthos towards the fallen Foldath. Fillan puts the whole army of the Fir-bolg to flight. The book ciofes with an addrefs to Clatho, the mother of that hero. THOU dweller between the fliields, that hang, on high, in Offian's hall ! Defcend from thy place, O harp, and let me hear thy voice ! Son of Alpin, flrike the firing. Thou mud awake the foul of the bard. The murmur of Lora's* ftream has rolled the tale away. I fland in the cloud of years. Few are its openings toward the pafl ; and when the vifion comes, it is but dim and dark. I hear thee, harp of Selma ! My foul returns, like a breeze, which the fun brings back to the vale, where dwelt the lazy miit ! Lubar * Lora is often mentioned ; it was a fmall and rapid flrcam in the neighbourhood of Selma. There is no vefiige of this name now remaining ; though it appears from a very old fong, which the tranflator has feen, that one of the fmall rivers on the north-weft coaft was called Lora fome centuries ago. 3o8 T E M O R A: LuBAR * is bright before me, in the windings of its vale. On either fide, on their hills, rife the tall forms* of the kings. Their people are pom-ed around them, bending forward to their words : as if their fathers fpoke, defcending from the winds. But they themfelves are like two rocks in the midft; each with its dark head of pines, when they are feen in the defart, above low-failing mift. High en their face are ftreams, which fpread their foam on blalts of wind ! Beneath the voice of Cathmor pours Erin, like the found of flame. Wide they come down to Lubar. Before them is the flride of Foldath. But Cathmor retires to his hill, beneath his bending oak. The tumbling of a ftream is near the king. He lifts, at times, his gleaming fpear. It is a flame to his people, in the midfl; of war. Near him ftands the daughter of Con-mor, leaning on a rock. She did not rejoice at the ftrife. Her foul delighted not in blood. A valley f fpreads green behind the hill, with its three blue fl.reams. The fun is there in filence. The dun mountain-roes come down. On thefe are turned the eyes of Sul-malla, in her thoughtful mood. FiNGAL beholds Cathmor, on high, the fon of Borbar- duthul ! he beholds the deep-rolling of Erin, on the dark- ened plain. He fl;rikes that warning bofs, which bids the people to obey ; when he fends his chiefs before them, to the field of renown. Wide rife their fpears to the fun. Their echoing fliieids reply around. Fear, like a vapour, winds * From feveral paffages in the poem we may form a diRinft idoa of the fcene of the aftion of Temora. At a fmall diftance from one another rofe the hills of Mo- ra and Lora ; the firft pofTcfftd by Fingal, the fecond by the army of Cathmor. Th'-ough the intermediate plain ran the fmal! river Lubar, on the banks of which all the battles were fought, excepting; that between Cairbar and Ofcar, related in the firft book. This laft mentiocv d engagement happened to the north of the hill of Mora, of which Fin,c;al took poffeffion, after the army of Cairbar fell back to that of Cathmor. At fome diilance, but within light of Mora, towards the weft, Lu- fear iffucd from the mountain of Crom.mal, and, after a fhort courfe through the plain of Moi-lena, difcharged itfclf into the fea near the field of battle. Behind the mountain of C'ommal ran the fmall ftream of Lavath, on the banks of which Ferard-artho, the fon of Cairbre, the only perfon remaining of the race of Conar, lived concealed in a cave, during the ufurpation of Cairbar, the fon of B-orbar- duthul. t It was to this valley Sul-malla retired, during the lafl and decifive battle be- tween Fingal and Cathmor. It is defcribed in the feventh book, where it is calleci the vale of Lona, and the refidenceof a Druid. Book V. An EPIC POEM. 309 winds not among the hoft : for he, the king, Is near, the ftrength of flreamy Sehna. Gladnefs brightens the hero. We hear his words with joy. " Like the coming forth of winds, is the found of Sel- ma's fons ! They are mountain waters, determined in their courfe. Hence is Fingal renowned : hence is his name in other lands. He was not a lonely beam in danger ; for your fleps were always near ! But never was Fingal a dreadful form, in your prefence, darkened into wrath. My voice was no thunder to your ears. Mine eyes fent. forth no death. When the haughty appeared, I beheld them not. They were forgot at my feafts. Like mift they melted away. — A young beam is before you ! Few are his paths to v/ar ! They are few, but he is valiant. Defend my dark-haired fo-n. Bring Filian back with joy. Here- after he may Hand alone. His form is like his fathers. His foul is a flame of their fire. Son of car-borne Morni ! move behind the youth. Let thy voice reach his ear, from the flvirts of war. Not unobferved rolls battle, be- fore thee, breaker of the (hields !" The king flrode, at once, av/ay to Cormul's lofty rock. Intermitting, darts the light, from his fliield, as, flow, the king of heroes moves. Sidelong rolls his eye o'er the heath, as, forming, advance the lines. Graceful, fly his half-grey locks, round his kingly features, now lightened with dreadful joy. Wholly mighty is the chief ! Behind him, dark and flow, I moved. Straight came forward the flrength of Gaul. His flileld hung loofe on its thong. He fpoke, in hafte, to OiTian. " Bind *, fon of Fingal, this fliield ! Bind it high to the fide of Gaul. The foe may behold it, and think I lift the fpcar. If I fliould fall, let my tomb be hid in the field ; for fall I mud without fame. Mine arm cannot lift the fleel. Let not Evir-choma hear it, to blufh between her locks. Filian, the mighty behold us ! Let us not forget the flrife. Why fliould they come, from their hills, to aid our flying field ?" He flrode onward, with the found of his fliield. My voice purfued him, as he went. " Can the fon of Morni fall, * It is neceffaiy to remember, that Gaul was wounded ; which occafions his re- J .quiring here the affiftance of Offian to bind his fliield on his lide. ^ 310 T E M O R A: fall, without his fame, in Erin ? But the deeds of the mighty are forgot by themfelves. They rufh carelefs over the fields of renown. Their words are never heard!" I rejoiced over the fteps of the chief. I ilrode to the rock of the king, where he fat, in his wandering locks, amid the mountain-wind ! In two dark ridges bend the hofts, toward each other, at Lubar. Here, Foldath rifes, a pilkr of darkncfs: there, brightens the youth of Filian. Each, v/ith his fpear in the ftream, fent forth the voice of war. Gaul ftruck the fliield of Selma. At once they pkmee in battle ! Steel pours its gleam on fteel : like the f?li of ll reams ihone the field, when they mix their foam togetlier, fi^om two dark-browed rocks ! Behold he comes, the fon ot fame ! He lays the people low I Death fits on blafts aroiuid him ! Warriors ftrew thy paths, O Filian ! RoTHMAR*, the fhield of warriors, flood betw^een two chinky rocks. Two oaks, which winds had bent from high, fpread their branches on either fide. He rolls his darkening eyes on Filian, and, fluent, fhades his friends. Fingal faw the approaching fight. The hero's foul arofe. But as the ftone of Lodaj falls, fhook, at once, from rock- ing Druman-ard, when fpirits heave the earth in their wrath ; To fell blue-fhielded Rothmar. Near are the fteps of Culmin. The youth came, burft- ing into tears. Wrathful, he cut the wind, ere yet he mixed his flrokes with Filian. He had firft bent the bow with Rothmar, at the rock of his own blue flreams. There they had marked the place of the roe, as the fun- beam * Roth-mar, the found of thefea before ajlorm.. Druman-ard, high-ridge. C\x\- m\n, foft-kaircd. Cul-allin, bmntiful locks . Struthz, freamy river. + By the flone of Loda is meant a place of worfhip among the Scandinavians. The Caledoninns, in their many expeditions to.Orkney and Scandinavia, becanu; acquainted with fome of the lites of their religion, which prevailed in thofe coun- tries, and the ancient poetry frequently alludes to them. There are fome ruins, and circular pairs of ftone, remaining ftill in Orkney, and the iflands of Shetland, which retain, to this day, the nam.e of Loda or Loden. They feem to have differed materially, in their conftruflion, from thofe Druidical monuments which remain in Britain, and the weflern ifles. The places of worfhip among the Scandinavians were originally rude and unadorned. In after ages, when they opened a commu-^ nication with other nations, they adopted their manners, and built temples. That at Upfal, in Sweden, was amazingly rich and ma;znificent, Harquin, of Norway, built one, near Diontheim, little inferior to the former; and it went always un- der the name of Loden. Mallet, introduBion a Vhijioire de Danmmarc. BookV, An epic POEM. 311 beam flew over the fern. Why, fon of Cul-allin ! why, Culmin, dofl: thou rufli on that beam* of light ? It is a fire that confumes. Son of Cul-allin, retire. Your fa- thers were not equal, in the glittering flrife of the field. The mother of Culmin remains in the hall. She looks forth on blue-rolling Strutha. A whirlwind rifes, on the ftream, dark-eddying round the ghoft of her fon. His dogs f are howling in their place. His fhleld is bloody in the hall. " Art thou fallen, my fair-haired youth, in Erin's difmal war ?"- As a roe, pierced in fecret, lies panting, by her wonted flreams : the hunter furveys her feet of wind : he remem- bers her flately bounding before ; fo lay the fon of Cul- allin, beneath the eye of Fiilan. His hair is rolled in a little flream. His blood wanders on his fhield. Still his hand holds the fword, that failed him in the midft of dan- ger. " Thou art fallen," faid Fiilan, " ere yet thy fame was heard. Thy father fent thee to war. He experts to hear of thy deeds. He is grey, perhaps, at his flreams. His eyes are toward Moi-lena. But thou fhalt not return, with the fpoil of the fallen foe !" FiLLAN pours the flight of Erin before him, over the refounding heath. But, man on man, fell Morven before the dark-red rage of Foldath ; for, far on the field, he poured the roar of half his tribes. Dermid flands before him in wrath. The fons of Selma gathered around. But his fhield is cleft by Foldath. His people fly over the heath. Then faid the foe, in his pride, " They have fled ! My * The poet, metaphorically, Calls Fiilan a beam of light. Cul-min, mentioned here, was the fon of Clonmar, chief of Strutha, by the beautiful Cul-allin. She was fo remarkable for the beauty of her perfon, that fiie is introduced frequently, in the fimilies and allu.'ions of ancient poetry. Mar Chul-aluin Strutk naiifisM; Lcz:dv as Cul-allin of Stnttfia of the fiorms. + Dogs were thought to be fenfible of the death of their maftsr, let it hapnen at ever fo great a diflance. It was alfo the opinion of the times, that the arms which warriors left at hon.e became bloody, when they thsmfelves fell in balttle. It was fro;r\ thofe figns that Cul-allin is fuppofed to underfiand that her fon is killed ; in which fhe is confi'med by the appearance of bis ghoif , Her fr.dden and !!;ort ex- clamation is more judicious in the poet, than if (be had extended her complaints to a great'.-,!- leagth. The attitude of the fallen youth, and Fillan's reflexions ovet hiin, Ci-me forcibly back on the mind, when we confider, that the fuppofed fittlci- tiun of the father of Cuhnin, was fo limilar to that of Fir.gal. after the death of fii- Idu himfelf. 312 T E M O R A: My fame begins ! Go, Malthos, go bid Cathmor guard the dark-rolling of ocean ; that Fingal may not efcape from my fvvord. He mufl; lie on earth. Befide fome fen fhail his tomb be feen. It fliall rife without a fong. His ghofl fhall hover, in mid, over the reedy pool.'* Malthos heard, with darkening doubt. He rolled his filent eyes. He knew the pride of Foldath. He looked up to Fingal, on his hills ; then darkly turning, in doubt- ful mood, he plunged his fword in war. In Clono's* narrow vale, where bend two trees above the ftream, dark, in his grief, ftood Duthno's filent fon. The blood pours from the fide of Dermid. His fliield is broken near. His fpear leans againft a (tone. Why, Der- mid, why fo fad ? " I hear the roar of battle. My people are alone. My fteps are flow on the heath ; and no fhield is mine. Shall he then prevail ? It is, thqji, after Dermid is low ! * This valley had its name from Cl©fio, fon of Lethmal of Lore, one of the .-inctrftors of Dermid, the fon of Dulhno. His hiftory is thus related in an old poem. In the days of Connr, the fon of Trenmor, the fiill king of Ireland, Clo- iio paffed over into that kingdom, from Caledonia, to aid Conar againft the Fir- bolg. Being remarkable for the beauty of his perfon, he foon drew the attention of Sulmin, the young wife of an Irilh chief. She difcl-ofed her palTion, which was not propeily returned by the Caledonian. The lady fickened through difappoint- ment, and her love for Clono came to the ears of her hulband. Fired with jealou- fy, he vowed revenge. Clono, to avoid his ra^e, departed from Tcmora, in or- der to pafs over into Scotland ; and, being benighted in the valley mentioned here, he laid him down to fleep. There Lethmal defcended in the dreams of Clono, and told him that danger was near, Ghofl of LETHMAL. '• Arife, from thy bed of mofs ; fon of low-laid Lethmal, arife. The found of the coming of foes, dcfcends along the wind. CLONO. Whofe voice is that, like many fireams, in the feafon of my reft ? Ghoft of LETHMAL. Arife, thou dweller of the iouls of the lovely; fon of Lethmal, arife. CLONO. How dreary is the night I The moon is darkened in the fky ; red are the paths of cliofts, along its fuUen face ! Green-lkirtcd meteors let around. Dull is the loar- ing of dreams, from the valley of dim forms, I hear thee, fpirit of my father, on the eddying cou'fe of the wind. I hear thee : but thou bendeft not, forward, thy tall form, from the (kins of night." As Clono prepared to depart, the huPoand of Gulmin came up, with his numerous sttendanis. Ciono defended himfelf, but, after a giillant refinance, he was over- powered and llaia. He was buried in the place where he was killed, and the val- iey was called after his name. Dermid, in his requeft to Gaul the fun oi Momi, -.vhich immediately follows this paragraph, alludes to the tomb of Clono, and his own couue^iion wuh t'nat mifoiitinate chief. BookV. An epic POEM. 313 low ! I will call thee forth, O Foldath, and meet thee yet in fight." FIk took his fpear, with dreadful joy. The foil of Morni came. " Stay, fon of Duthno, ftay thy fpeed. Thy ftJps are marked with blood. No boffy fliield is thine. Why lliouldll thou fall unarmed ?" " Son of Morni ! give thou' thy fhield. It has often rolled back the war. I fliall flop the chief, in his courfe. Son of Morni! behold that ftone ! It lifts grey its head through grafs. There, dwells a chief of the race of Dermid. Place me there in night." He flowly rofe againft the hill. He faw the troubled field ; the gleaming ridges of battle, disjoined and bro- ken around. As diftant fires on heath, by night, now feem as loft in fmoke ; now rearing their red ftreams on the hill, as blow or ceafe the winds ; fo met the inter- mitting war the eye of broad-lhielded Dermid. Through the hoft are the ftrides of Foldath, like fome dark fhip on wintry waves, when ihe iifues from between two illes, to fport on refounding ocean ! Dermid, with rage, beholds his courfe. He ftrives to rufh along. But he fails, amid his fteps ; and the big- tear comes down. He founds his father's horn. He thrice ftiikes his boffy fliield. He calls thrice the name of Foldath, from his roaring tribes. Foldath, with joy, beholds the chief. He lifts aloft his bloody fpear. As a rock is marked with ftreams, that fall, troubled, down its fide in a ftorm ; fo, ftreaked with wandering blood, is the dark chief of Moma ! The hoft, on either fide, with- draw from the contending of kings. They raife, at once, their gleaming points. Rufliing comes Fillan of Selma. Three paces back Foldath withdraws, dazzled with that beam of light, which came, as iffuing from a cloud, to fave the wounded chief. Growing in his pride, he ftands. He calls forth all his fteel. As meet two broad-winged eagles, in their founding ftrife, in wipds ; fo rufli the two chiefs, on Moi-lena, into gloomy fight. By turns are the fteps of the kings* for- ward on their rocks above ; for now the dufky war feems to defcend on their fwords. Cathmor feels the joy of R r vvarriors * Fing:'.l and Ci'thmor, 3.14 T E M O R A: wamors, on bis mofiy hill ; their joy in fecret, when dan- gers jife to match their fouls. His eye is not turned on Lubar^ but on Selrna's dreadful king. He beholds him, on Mora, rifmg in his arms. FoLDATH * falls on his fhield. The fpear of Fillan pierced the king. Nor looks the youth on the fallen, but onward rolls the war. The hundred voices of death arife. " Stay, fon of Fingal, Itay thy fpeed. Beholdeft thou not that gleaming form, a dreadful fign of death ? Awaken not the king of Erin. Return, fon of blue-eyed Clatho." MALTHOsf beholds Foldath low. He darkly {lands above the chief. Hatred is rolled from his foul. He feems a rock in a defart, on whofe dark fide are the trick- ling of waters ; when the flow-failing mifl has left it, and all its trees are blafled with winds. He fpoke to the dying heroj about the narrow houfe. " Whether fhall thy grey ftone rife in Ullin, or in Moma's jj woody land ? where the * The fall of Fold.ith, if we may believe tradition, was predifled to him, before he had left his own country to join Cairbar, in his der)2;ns on the Irifh throne. He went to th'? cave of Moma, to enquire of the fpiiits of his fathers, concerning the fucctfs of the er.ti'iprife of Cjirbar. The nfponfes of oracles are always attended with obfcuiiiy, aad liable to a double meanini^;: Foldath, therefore, put a favour- able interpr- tition on the prcdittion, and purfued his adopted plan of aggrandizing himH If with the fimily o*^ A: ha. FOL D AT H , addrrjjing the /pints of his fathers. " D?rk, I Oand in your prtfence ; lathers of Foldath, hear. Shall my fteps pafs over Atha, lo Ullin of the rots?" The Anfwcr. " Thy fteps Oiall pafs over Atha, to the green dwelling of kings. There fhall thy Dature arife, over the fallen, like a piilar of thunder-clouds. There, terrible in diiknefs, (halt thou fland, till the refleRed beam, or Cloncath, of Moruth, come; Mo urh of many flreams, thr.t roars in difiant lands." Clrjur;ith. or Tffl'cled beam, fay my traditional authors, was the name of the fwoid of Fillan ; lo that it was, in the latent finnificatlon ol the word Cloncath, that the deception lay. My principal reafon for introducing this note, is, that this tra- dition lervesto fliew, that the religion of the Fir-bolg differed fiom that of the Ca- ledoniniis, as we never find the latter enquiring of the fpirits of their deceafed an- cefiors. -!• The chnr^f^ers of Foldath and Maltbos are fuflaincd. They were both dark and fu Iv, but each in a diffeient way, Foldath was impetuous and cruel. Mal- thos flubhorn and incedulous. Their attachment to the family of Atha was equal; fheir bravery in battle the ijme. Foldath was vain and onentatious : Malthos un- indubent but generous. His behaviour here, towards his enemy Foldath, fhews, that a ; ooi h-a't often lies conceaied under a gloomy and fullen charafter. II MuKui was the naime of a country in the fouth of Connaught, once famous for being the lefidcuce of an Arth-Diuid. The cave of Moma was thought to be in- habited BookV. An epic POEM. 315 the fun looks, in fecret, on the blue ftreams of D?J-rutho * ? There, are the fteps of thy daughter, blue-eyed Dardu- lena !" " Rememberest thou her/' faid Foldath, " becaufe no fon is mine : no youth to roil the battle before him, in revenge of me ! Malthos, I am revenged. I was not peaceful in the field. Raife the tombs of thofe I have flain, around my narrow houfe. Often fliall I forfake the blaft, to rejoice above their graves ; when I behold them fpread around, with their long-whiitling grafs.'* His foul rufhed to the vale of Moma, to Dardu-lena's dreams, where (he flept, by Dal-rutho's ftream, returning from the chace of the hinds. Her bow is near the maid, unftrung. The breezes fold her long hair on her breads. Clothed in the beauty of youth, the love of heroes lay. Dark-bending, from the Ikirts of the wood, her wounded father feemed to come. He appeared, at times ; then hid himfelf in miil. Burfting into tears, lire rofe. She knew that the chief was low. To her came a beam from his foul, when folded in its ftorms. Thou wert the lajfl of his race, O blue-eyed Dardu-lena ! Wide-spreading over echoing Lubar, the jBight of Bolga is rolled along. Fillaii hangs forward on their ueps. He ftrews, with dead, the heath. Fingal rejoices over his fon. Blue-fliielded Cathmor rofe f . Son of Alpin, bring the harp. Give Fillan'a praife to the habited by the fpirits of the chiefs of the Fir-bolg, and their pofterity fent to enquire there, as to an oracle, concerning the ifTue of their wars. * Dal-ru'ath, parched or fandy Jiild. The etymology of Dardu-kna is uncertain. The daut^hrer of Foldath was, probably, fo called, from a place in Ulller, where her father had defeated part of the adhcreiits of Artho, kin^ of Ireland, Dar-du- lena; the dark wood of Moi-lma. As Foldath was proud and oRentatious, it would appear, that he transferred the name of a place, where he himfelf had been viflo- rious, to his daughter. + " The fufpence, in which the mind of the reader is left here, conveys the idea of Fillan's danger more forcibly home, than any defcription that could be intro- duced. There is a fort of eloquence, in filence with propriety. A minute detail of the circumftances of an important fcene is generally cold and infipid. 1 he hu- man mind, free and fond of thinking for itfelf, is difgufied to find every thin^ done by the poet, Ii is, therefore, his bufinefs only to mark out the moft itriking out- lines, and to allow the imaginations of his readers to finifh the figure for them- felves." The book ends in the afternoon of the third day, from the opening of the poem. 3iS T E M O R A. the wind. Raife high his praife, in mine ear, while yet he fliines in war. Leave, blue-eyed Clatho, leave thy hall ! Behold that early beam of thine ! The hoft is withered in its courfe. No further look : it is dark. Light-trembling from the harp, ftrike, virgins, flrike the found. No hunter he defcends, from the dewy haunt of the bounding roe. He bends not his bow on the wind ; nor fends his grey arrow abroad. Deep-folded in red war ! See battle roll againfc his fide. Striding amid the ridgy ftrife, he pours the deaths of thoufands forth. Fillan is like a fpirit of heaven, that defcends from the fkirt of winds. The troubled ocean feels his fteps, as he ftrides fi'om wave to wave. His path kindles behind him. lilands fhake their heads on the heaving feas ! Leave, blue-eyed Clatho, leave thy hail ! TEMORA: E M O R A A N EPIC POEM. BOOK VI. ARGUMENT. THIS book opens with a fpecch of FIngal, who fees Gathmor defcending to the affidance of his flying army. The king difpatchcs Oflian to the relief of Fillan. He himfelf retires behind the rock of Cormul, to avoid the fight of the engac^e- ment between his fon and Cathmor. Oflian advances. The defcent of Gath- mor defcri bed. He rallies the the army, renews the battle, and, before Oflian could arrive, engages Fillan himfelf. Upon the approach of Oflian, the com- bat between the two heroes ceafes. Oflian and Gathmor prepare to fi^ht, but night coming on, pievents them. Oflian returns to the place where Gathmor and Fillan fought. He finds Fillan mortally wounded, and leaning againft a lock. Their difcourfe. Fillan dies: his body is laid, by Oflian, in a neighbour- ing cave. The Galedonian army return to Fingal. He queftions them about his fon, and, underflanding that he was killed, retires, in filence, to the rock of Coimul. Upon the retreat of the ajmy of Fingal, '^the Fir-bolg advance. Cath- mor finds Bran, one of the dogs of Fingal, lying on the fliield of Fillan, before the entrance of the cave, where the body of that hero lay. His refleftions there- upon. He returns, in a melancholy mood, to his army. Malthos endeavours to comfort him, by the example of his father Borbar-duthul. Gathmor retires to refl. The fong of Sul-malla concludes the book, which ends about the mid- dle of the third night, from the opening of the poem. * " ^ATHMOR rifes on his hill ! Shall Fingal take V>4 the fword of Luno ? But what fhould become of thy fame, fon of white-bofomed Clatho ? Turn not thine eyes from Fingal, fair daughter of Iniftore. I fhall not quench thy early beam. It Ihines along my foul. Rife, wood-£kirted Mora, rife between the war and me ! Why ihould Fingal behold the ftrife, left his dark-haired war- rior fhould fall ! Amidft the fong, O Carril, pour the found of * Fingal fpeaks. 3i8 T E M O R A: of the trembling harp ! Here are the voices of rocks! and there the bright tumbling of Vv^aters. Father of Ofcarj, lift the fpear ! Defend the young in arms. Conceal thy fteps from Fillan. He mult not know that I doubt his fteel. No cloud of mine fhall rife^ my fon, upon thy foul of fire 1" He funk behind his rock, amid the found of Carril's fong. Brightening, in my growing foul, I took the fpear of Temora*. I faw, along Moi-lena, the wild tumbling of battle ; the ftrife of death, in gleaming rows, disjoined and broken round. Fillan is a beam of fire. From wing to wing is his walfeful courfe. The ridges of war melt before him. They are rolled, in fmoke, from the fields ! Now is the coming forth of Cathmor, in the armour of kings ! Dark waves the eagle's M^ing, above his helmet of fire. Unconcerned are his fleps, as if they were to the chace of Erin. He raifes, at times, his terrible voice., Erin, abafhed, gathers round. Their fouls return back, like a ftream. They wonder at the fteps of their fear. He rofe, like the beam of the morning on a haunted heath i the traveller looks back, with bending eye, on the field of dreadful forms ! Sudden, from the rock of Moi-lena, are Sul-malla's trembling fteps. An oak takes the fpear from her hand. Half-bent, flie loofes the lance. But then are her eyes on the king, from amid her wandering locks ! " No friendly ftrife is before thee ! No light contending of bows, as when the youth of Inis-huna j came forth beneath the eye of Conmor !" As the rock of Runo, which takes the palling clouds as they fly, feems growing, in gathered darknefs, over the ftreamy heath ; fo feems the chief of Atha taller, as gather his people around. As different blafts fly over the fea, each behind its dark-blue wave ; fo Cathmor's words, on every fide, pour his warriors forth. Nor filent on his hill -■• The fpear of Ttrnora was that which Ofcai had received, in a prefent, from Coimac, the fon of Artho, kino of Ireland. It was. of it that Cairbar made the pretext for quarrel in^ wiih Ofcar, at the feaft, in the firft book. t Clu-ba, Ziiinding bay; an arm of the fea in Inis-huna, or the weflern co.iR of South-Britain. It was in this b.iv that Cathmor was wind-bound when Sul-malla came, in the difguifc of a youni; warrin;, to acrompany him in his voyage to Ire- land. Conmor,' the father oF Sul-malla, as is infinuated at the clofe of the fourth book, wa:i dead before the departure of hij daughter. Book VI. An EPIC POEM. 319 hill is Fillan. He mixes his words with his echoing Ihield. An eagle he feemed, with founding wings, calling the wind to kis rock, when he fees the coming forth of the roes, on Lutha's* rufliy field 1 Now they bend forward in battle. Death's hundred voices arife. The kings, on either fide, were like hres on the fouls of the hofls. Offian bounded along. High rocks and trees ruih tall between the war and mc. But I hear the noife of fteel, between my clanging arms. Rifmg, gleaming, on the hill, I behold the backward (laps of hods ; their backward fteps, on either fide, and wildly- looking eyes. The chiefs were met in dreadful fight 1 the two blue-fhielded kings ! Tall and dark, thro' gleams gf fteel, are feen the ftriving heroes ! 1 rufli. My fears for Fillan fly, burning, acrofs my foul. I COME. Nor Cathmor flies, nor yet comes on : he fidelong ftalks along. An icy rock, cold, tall he feems. I call forth all my Heel. Silent av/hile we (Iride, on either fide of a rufliing ftream ; then, hidden turning, all at once, we raife our pointed fpears ! We raife our fpears, but night comes down. It is dark and fiient round ; bur. where the diftant fteps of hofts are lounding over the heath. I COME to the place where Fillan fought. Nor voice, nor found is there. A broken helmet lies on earth, a buckler cleft in twain. " Where, Fillan, where art thou, young chief of echoing Morven ?" He hears me, leaning on a rock, , which bends its grey head over the ftream. He hears ; but fullen, dark, he ftands. At length I faw the hero ! " Why ftandeft thou, robed in darknefs, fon of woody Selma ? Bright is thy path, my brother, in this dark- brown field ! Long has been thy ftrife in battle ! — Now the horn of Fingal is heard, Afcend to the cloud of thy father, to his hill of feafts. In the evening mift he fits, and hears the found of Carril's harp. Carry joy to the aged, young breaker of the fiiields !" " Can the vanquifhed carry joy ? OfTian, no flneld is mine ! * Lutha was the name of a valley in Morven. There dwelt Tofcar the fon of Conloch, the father of Malvina, who, upon that r.ccount, is often called ^5(• ^W of Lutha. Lutha fignifies fcuift Jfreavi. 320 T E M O R A: mine ! It lies broken on the field. The eagle-wing of my helmet is torn. It is when foes fly before them, that fa- thers delight in their fons. But their fighs burft forth in fecret, when their young warriors yield. No : Fillan iliall not behold the king ! Why fliould the hero mourn ?" " Son of blue-eyed Clatho ! O Fillan, awake not my foul ! Wert thou not a burning fire before him ? Shall he not rejoice ? Such fame belongs not to Offian ; yet is the king (till a fun to me. He looks on my fieps, with joy. Shadows never arife on his face. Afcend, O Fillan, to Mora ! His feaft is fpread in the folds of mift." " OssiAN ! give me that broken ifhield ; thefe feathers, that are rolled in the wind. Place them near to Fillan, that lefs of his fame may fall. Offian, I begin to fail. Lay me in that hollow rock. Raife no ftone above, left one fliould aik about my fame. I am fallen in the firft of my fields, without renown. Let thy voice alone fend joy to my flying foul. Why fliould the bard know where dwells the loft beam of Clatho * ?" "Is * A dialogue between Clatho the mother, and Bofmina the fifter, of Fillan. CLATHO.- DAUGHTER of Finp;al, arife: thou light between thy locks. Lift thy f.^'r licad from refl, foft-gliding fun-beam of Selma ! 1 beheld thv arms, on thy breaft , white-toffcd amidll thy wandering locks ; when the ruflling breeze of the rnorning came from the defart of flreams. Haft thou feen thy fathers, Bos-mina, dclcending in thy dreams ? Arife, daughter of Clatho ; dwells there aught of grief in ihy iou! i' • BOS-MINA. A thni form palled before me, fadmg as it flew : like the darkening wave of a breeze, along a field of grafs. Deicend, from thy wi.ll, O harp, and call back the foul of Bos-niina ; it has rolled away, like a ftrcam. I hear thy pleafant found. I hear thee, O liarp, and my voice {hall rife. How often fhall ye rufli to war, ye dwellers of my foul? Your paths are didant, kings of men, in Erin of blue flreaiais. Lift thy wing, thou fouthern breeze, from Clouo's liarkcmng heath : fpread the fails of Fingal towards the bays of his land. But who is that, in his flrength, darkening in the prelence of war? His arm riretches to the foe, like the beam of the fickly fun ; when his fide is crufted with flarkncfs, and he rolls his difmal courfe through the fky. Who is it, but the fa- ther of Bos-mina ? Shall he return till danger is pail ! Fillan, thou art a beam by his fide; beautiful, but terrible, is thy light. Thy fword is before thee, a blue fire of night. When flialt thou return to thy rocs ; to the flreams of thy rufhy fields ? When fhall I behold thee fiom Mora, while %vinds drew my long locks on their blafls ! But fliall a young eagle return from ths field v.'heie the heroes fall ! . CLATHO. Book VI. An EPIC POEM. 321 " Is thy fplrit on the eddying winds, O Filhn, young breaker of ihlelds ! Joy purfue my hero, through his folded clouds. The forms of thy fathers, O Fillan, bend, to receive their fon. I behold the fpreading of their fire on Mora ; the blue-rolling of their mifty wreaths. Joy meet thee, my brother !— But we are dark and fad ! I be- hold the foe round the aged. I behold the wafting away of his fame. Thou art left alone in the field, O grey- haired king of Selma !" I LAID him in4he hollow rock, at the roar of the nightly ftream. One red ftar looked in on the hero. Winds lift, at times, his locks. I liften. No found is heard. The warrior llept ! — As lightning on a cloud, a thought came rufliing along my foul. My eyes roll in fire : my ftride was in the clang of fteel. " I will find thee, king of Erin 1 in the gathering of thy thoufands, find thee. Why fhould that cloud efcape, that quenched our early beam ? Kindle your meteors on your hills, my fathers. Light my daring fleps. I will confume in wrath*.— But Ihould not I re- turn! The king is without a fon, grey-haired among his foes ! His arm is not as in the days of old : his fame grows dim in Erin. Let me not behold him laid low in his latter field. — But can I return to the king ? Will he not aik about his fon ? " Thou oughteft to defend young S s Fillan.", CLATHO. Soft, as the fong of Locla, is the voice of Selma's raaid. Pleafant to the ear of Clarho is the name of the breaker of fliields. Behold, the king comes from ocean : the thield of Morven is borne by bards. The foe has fled before him, like the de- paifarc of mift. I hear not the founding wings of my eagle; the rulhing forth of the fon of Clatho. Thou art dark, O Fin,!f li ; flrall the warrior never return ? * ** * Here the fentence is defignedly left Linhniflicd. The fenfe is, that he was re- folved, like a deflroying fire, to conlnme Cathmor, who had killed his brother. In the midfl: of this refolution, the fituation of Fin,a;nl fuggefls itfelf to him, in a ve- ry ftrong light. Ke refolves to return to alTdl the king in profecuting the war. But then his fliamc for not defending his brother, recurs to him. He is determined again to go and find out Cathnr.or. We may confider him, as in the aft of advanc- ing towards the enemy, when the horn of Fingal founded on >/Iora, and called back his people to his prefence. This foliloquy is natural: the refohuions which fo luddenly follow one another, are exprefllve of a mind extremely agitated with forrow and confcious fiiame : yet the behaviour of Oflian, in his execution of the commands of Fingal, is fo irreprehenfihle, that it is not eafy to determine where he failed in his duty. The truth is, that when men fail in defigns which they ar- dently wifli to accomplifli, they naturally blame thcmfelves, as the chief caufc of their difappointment. 322 T E M O R A: Fillan.'* Offian will meet the foe. Green Erin, thy founding tread is pieafant to my ear. I rufh on thy ridgy jioft, to fhun the eyes of Fingal. — I hear the voice of the king, on Mora's midy top ! He calls his two fons ! I come, my father, in my grief. I come, like an eagle, which the fiame of night met in the defart, and fpoiled of half his wings !" Distant*, round the king, on Mora, the broken ridges of Morven are rolled. They turned their eyes : each darkly bends, on his own allien fpear. Silent ftood the king in the mJdil. Thought on thought rolled over his foul ; as waves on a fecret mountain-lake, each with its back of foam. He looked : no fon appeared, with his long-beaming fpear. The fighs rofe, crowding, from his foul ; but he concealed his grief. At length I ftood be- neath an oak. No voice cf mine was heard. What could I fay to Fingal in his hour of woe ? His words rofe, at length, in the midft : the people fln'unk backward, as he fpokef. " Where * " Thisfcenc," fays an ingenious writer, and a ,cood judge, " is fckmn. The poet aKs'ays places his chief charatier amidft objefts which favour the lublime. The face of the country, the night, the broken remains of a defeated army, and, above jfll, the attitude and filence of Fingal himfelf, are circumOances calculated to im- prefs an awful idea on the mind. OITian is mcft fuccelsful in his night-de- Icnptions. Dark images fuited the melancholy temper of his mind. His poems were all compofed after the attive part of his life was over, when he was blind, and kad furvived all the companions of his youth : we therefore find a veil of me- lancholy thrown over the whole." t I owe the firft paragraph of the following note to the fame pen. The abaflied behaviour of the army of Fingal proceeds rather from {hame than fear.. The king was not of a tyrannical difpofuion : He, as he profefTes himfelf in the fifth book, never was a dreadful form, in tkeir prefince, darkened into wrath. His voice was no thunder to their ears : his eyes Jlnt forth no death. The firfl ages of fo- ciety are not the times of arbitrary power. As the wants of mankind are few, they retain their independence. It is an advanced date of civilization that moulds the mind to that fubniilTion to government, of which ambitious magiflrates take advan- tage, and raife themfelves into abfolute power. It is a vulgar error, that the common Highlanders liv€ T E M O R A A SOUND came from the defart : it was Conav, king of Inis-fail. He poured his mid on the grave of Fillan, at blue-winding Lubar. Dark and mournful fat the ghoft, in his grey ridge of fmoke. The blaft, at times, rolled him together ; but the form returned again. It returned, with bending eyes, and dark-winding locks of mift. It was * dark. The ileeping hofi: were ftill, in the fidrts of night. The flame decayed, on the hill of Fingal. 1 he king lay lonely on his fhield : his eyes were half- clofed in fleep. The voice of Fillan came. " Sleeps the hufband of Clatho ? Dwells the father of the fallen in reft ? Am I forgot in the folds of darknefs ; lonely in the fea- fon of night ?" " Vv^HY doft thou mix," faid the king, " with the dreams of thy father ? Can I forget thee, my fon, or thy path of fire in the field ? Not fuch come the deeds of the valiant on the foul of Fingal. They are not there a beam of lightning, which is feen, and is then no more. I re- member thee, O Fillan, and my wrath begins tp rife.'* The king took his deathful fpear, and ilruckthe deeply- founding fhield ; his ihield, that hung high, in night, the difmal fign of war ! Ghofts fled on every fide, and rolled their gathered forms on the wind. Thrice, from the winding vale, arofe the voice of deaths. The harps f of the bards, untouched, found mournful over the hill. He tombsj for it was not allowable, without that ceremony was performed, for the fplrits of the dead to mix with their anceflors, i?i their airy halls. It was the bufi- nefs of the fpirit of the neareft relation to the deceafed, to take the mift of Lego, and pour it over the grave. We find here Conar, the fon of Trenmor, the firft king of Ireland, performing this office for Fillan, as it was in the caufe of the family of Conar, that that hero was killed. * The following is the fingular fentlment of a frigid bard: *' More pk-afing to me is the night of Cona, dark-ftreaming from Ofllan's harp; more pleafant it is to me, than a whitc-bofomed dweller between my arms; than a fair-handed daughter of heroes, in the hour of reft," Tho' tradition is not very fatisfaftory concerning the hiflory of this poet, it has taken care to inform us, that he was very old when he wrote the diflich, a circum- flancc, which we might have fuppoled, without the aid of tradition, + It was the opinion of ancient times, that, on the night preceding the death of a perfon worthy and renowned, the harps of thofe bards, who were retained by his family, emitted melancholy founds. This was attributed to the light touch of ghojls; who were fuppofed to have a fore-knowledge of events. The lame opi- nion pre^'ailed long in the north, and the particular lound was called, the zvarning voice of the dead. The veice of deaths mentioned io the preceding fentence, was of a diL Book VII. An EPIC POEM. 331 He {truck again the fhield ; battles rofe in the dreams - of his hofl. The wide-tumbling Itrife is gleaming over their fouls. Blue-fliielded kings defcend to war. Back- ward-looking armies fly ; and mighty deeds are half-hid, in the bright gleams of fteel. But when the third found arofe, deer darted from the clefts of their rocks. The fcreams of fowl are heard, in the defart, as each flew, frighted, on his blafl:. The fons of Selma half-rofe, and half-afl'umed their fpears. But filence rolled back on the hofl ; they knew the fliield of the king. Sleep returned to their eyes ; the field was dark and flill. No fleep was thine in darknefs, blue-eyed daughter of Conmor ! Sul-malla heard the dreadful fhield, and rofe, amid the night. Her fteps are towards the king of Atha. " Can danger fhake his daring foul !" In doubt, flie {lands, with bending eyes. Heaven burns with all its {tars. Again the fliield refounds ! She .ruflied. She flopt. Her voice half-rofe. It failed. She faw him, amidfl his arms, that gleamed to heaven's fire. She faw him dira-in his locks, that rofe to nightly wind. Away, for fear, flie turned her fleps. " Why>fliouId the king of Erin awake? Thou art not a dream to his refl, daughter of Inis-huna." More dreadful rings the fliield. Sul-malla flarts. Her helmet falls. Loud-echoes Lubar's rock, as over it rolls the fteel. Burfl:ing from the dreams of night, Cathmor half-rofe, beneath his tree. He faw the form of the maid above him, on the rock. A red flar, with twinkling beam, looked through her floating hair. " Who comes through night to Cathmor, in the feafon of his dreams ? Bring'fl thou ought of war ? "Who art thou, fon of night ? Stand'fl thou before me, a form of the times of old ? A voice from the fold of a cloud, to warn me of the danger of Erin ?" " Nor lonely fcout am I, nor voice from folded cloud," ilie faid j " but I warn thee of the danger of Erin. Dofl thou a different kind. Each perfon was fuppofed to have an attendant fpirit, \vho af- fumed his form and voice, on the night preceding his death, and appeared, to Ibine, in the attitude, in which the perfon was to die. The voices of death were the tore- boding fhrieks of thofe fpirits. 332 T E M O R A: thou hear that found ? It is not the feeble, king of Atha, that rolls his figns on night." " Let the warrior roll his figns,'* he replied : " to Cathmor they are the founds of harps. My joy is great, voice of night, and burns over all my thoughts. This is the mufic of kings, on lonely hills, by night ; when they light their daring fouls, the fons of mighty deeds ! The feeble dwell alone, in the valley of the breeze ; where miih lift their morning ikirts, from the blue-winding ftreams." " Not feeble, king of men, were thej, the fathers of my race. They dwelt in the folds of battle, in their dif- tant lands. Yet delights not my foul in the figns of death ! He * who never yields comes forth : O fend the bard of peace !" Like a dropping rock, in the defart, flood Cathmor in his tears. Her voice came, a breeze, on his foul, and waked the memory of her land ; where flie dwelt by her peaceful flrcams, before he came to the war of Conmor. " Daughter of flrangers," he faid ; (Ihe trembling turned away) " long have I marked thee in thy fteel, young pine of Inis-huna. But my foul, I faid, is folded \n a ftorm. Why fliould that beam arife, till my Heps re- turn in peace ? Llave I been pale in thy prefence, as thou bidft me to fear the king ? The time of danger, O maid, is the feafon of my foul; for then it fwells a mighty flream, and rolls me on the foe. " Beneath the mofs-covered rock of Lona, near his own loud ftream ; grey in his locks of age, dwells Clon- rnal f king of harps. Above him is his echoing tree, and the dun-bounding of roes. The noife of our ftrife reaches hh ear, as he bends in the thoughts of years. There let thy * Fiagal is faid to have never been overcome in battle. From this proceeded that title of honour which is always beflowed on him in tradition, Fion gal na bvai\ Frugal of vicicries. In a poem, juft now in my hands, which celebrates fome of ihe great atlions of Arthur, the famous Britifh hero, that appellation is often be- flowed on him. The poem, from the phra.eology, appears to be ancient; and is, perhaps, though that is not mentioned, a tranflation from the Welfh language. + Claon-mal, crooked eye brow. From the retired life of this perfon, is infinua- jed, that he was of the order of the Druids; which fuppofition is not, at all, inva- iidifed by the appellation of /4zK^ (///c?^^5, here beflowed on himj for all agree iha: the bards were of the nuniber of ihe Druids originally. BookVIL An epic poem. 333 thy reft be, Sul-malla, until our battle ceafe : until I re- turn, in my arms, from the (kirts of the evening mift, that rifes, on Lona, round the dwelling of my love." A LIGHT fell on the foul of the maid ; it rofe kindled before the king. She turned her face to Cathmor, frcra amidft her waving locks. " Sooner fliall the eagle of t.ea- ven be torn from the ftream of his roaring wind, wlien he fees the dun prey before him, the young fons of the bounding roe, than thou, O Cathmor, be turned from the ftrife of renown. Soon may I fee thee, warrior, from the fkirts of the evening mift, when it is rolled around me, on Lona of the ftreams. While yet thou art diftant far, ftrike, Cathmor, ftrike the fhieid, that joy may return to my darkened foul, as I lean on the mcffy rock. Bat if thou fhouldft fall, I am in the land of ftrangers : O fend thy voice, from thy cloud, to the maid of Inis-huna." " Young branch of green-headed Luraon, why doft thou fhake in the ftorm.'* Often has Cathmor returned, from darkly-rolling wars. The darts of death are but hail to me : they have often rattled along my fliield. I have rifen brightened from battle, like a meteor from a ftormy cloud. Return not, fair beam, from thy vale, when the roar of battle grows. Then might the foe efcape, as from my fathers of old. " They told to Son-mor*, of Clunarf, who was flain by Cormac in fight. Three days darkened Son-mor, over his brother's fall. His fpoufe beheld the filent kin™, and forefaw his fteps to war. She prepared the bow, in fecret, to attend her blue-ftiielded hero. To her dwelt darknels at Atha, when he was not there. From their hundred ftreams, by night, poured down the fons of Alnecma. They had heard the fhieid of the king, and their rage arofe. In clanging arms, they moved along, towards Ullm of the groves. Son-mor ftruck his ftiield, at times, the leader of the war. " Fas. * Son-mor, tall handfcim man. He was the father of Borbar-duthul, chief of Atha, and grandfather to Caihmor himfelf. t Chian-er, man cf the field. This chief was killed in battle by Cormac Mac- Conar, king of Ireland, the father of Ros-crana, the firft wife of Fingal. The flo- ry IS alluded to in fome ancient poems. 334 T E M O R A: ** Far behind followed Sul-allin*, over the {Ireamy hills. She was a light on the mountain, when they croffed the vale below. Her fleps were ftately on the vale, when they rofe on the mofly hill. She feared to approach the king, who left her in echoing Atha. But when the roar of battle rofe : when hoft was rolled on hofl : when Son-mor burnt, like the fire of heaven in clouds ; with her fpread- ing hair came Sul-allin, for flie trembled for her king. He ftopt the rufluug Urife, to fave the love of heroes. The foe fled by night : Clunar flept without his blood ; the blood which ought to be poured upon the warrior's tomb. " Nor rofe the rage of Son-mor; but his days were filent and dark. Sul-allin wandered, by her grey ftreams, with her tearful eyes. Often did fhe look on the hero, when he was folded in his thoughts. But fhe fhTunk from his eyes, and turned her lone fleps away. Battles rofe, like a tempeft, and drove the milt from his foul. He beheld, with joy, her fteps in the hall, and the white-rifmg of her hands on the harp." j- In his arms llrode the chief of Atha, to where his fhield hung, high, in night ; high on a molfy bough, over Lubar's ftreamy roar. Seven bofl'es role on the fhield ; the feven voices of the king, which his warriors received, from the wind, and marked over all their tribes. On each bofs is placed a ftar of night : Canmathon, with beams uniliorn ; Col-derna, rifmg from a cloud ; Uloicho, robed in mid ; and the foft beam of Cathlin, glittering on a rock. Smiling, on its own blue wave, Reldurath half-fmks its weftern light. The red eye of Berthin looks, through a grove, on the hunter, as he re- turns, by night, with the fpoils of the bounding roe. "Wide, in the midfl, arofe the cloudlefs beams of Ton- thena, * Suil-alluin, bcaiiUful; the wife of Son-mor. + To avoid multiplying notes, 1 fhall give here the fignificatlon of the names of the ftais, engraved on the fliield. Cean-mathon, head of the bear. Col-derm, JIa7it and fmrp Seam. Ul-oicho, ruier of night. Cathlin, Seam of the wave. Reul- durath, Jlaf of the twilight. Berthin, Jire of the hill. Ton-thena, miteor of the waves. Thcle etymologies, excepting that of Cean-mathon. are pretty exact. Of it I am not fo certain ; for it is not very probable, that the ?ir-bolg had diftin- gui fired a conftellation, lo very early as the days of Larthon, by the name of the bear. Book VII. An EPIC POEM. 335 tbena, that ftar which looked, by night, on the coiirfe of the fea-toffed Larthon : Larthon, the firft of Bolga's race who travelled on the winds *. White-bofomed fpread the fails of the king, towards ftreamy Inis-fail ; dun night was rolled before him, with its Ikirts of miff. Un- con.T:ant blew the winds, and rolled him from wave to wave. Then rofe the fiery-haired Ton-thena, and fmiled f' i^rn her parted cloud. Larthonf blelfed the well-known beam, as it faint-gleamed on the deep. Beneath the fpear of Cathmor, rofe that voice which awakes the bards. They came, dark-winding, from every fide ; each with the found of his harp. Before them re- joiced the king, as the traveller, in the day of the fun ; when he hears, far-rolling around, the murmur of molTy ftreams ; dreams that burft, in the defart, from the rock of roes. " Why," faid Fonar, " hear we the voice of the king, in the feafon of his reft ? Were the dim forms of thy fa- thers bending in thy dreams ? Perhaps they ftand on that cloud, and wait for Fonar's fong : often they come to the fields where their fons are to lift the fpear. Or Ihall our voice arife for him who lifts the fpear no more ; he that confumed the field, from Moma of the groves ?" ated, in tradition, for his knowledge in the virtues of heibs. The Irifh poems, concerning him, often reprelcnt him, curing the wounds which his chiefs received in battle. They fable concerning him, that he was in pOiT;"fllon of a cup. containing the cflencc of herbs, which inRantaneoufly healed wounds. The knowledge of curing the wounded, was, till of late, univer- fal among the Hishlanders. We hear of no other diforder, which required the {kill of phvlir. Th' wholefomenefs of the climate, and an aftive life, fpent in hunung, excladea aiieafes. - - Book VIII. An EPIC POEM. ^ 347 gers*, when they pafled to my hall of flielLs. Joy rofe, like a flame, on my foul : I bieft the echoing rock. Here be my dwelling, in darknefs ; in my grafly vale. From this I ihall mount the breeze, that purfues the thiille's beard ; or look down on blue-v. inding Atha, from its wandering mift." " Why fpeaks the king of the tomb ? Ollian ! the warrior has faikd ! Joy meet thy foul, like a ftream, Cathmor, friend of ilnrngers ! — My fon, I hear the call of years ; they take my fpear as they pafs along. Why does not Fingal, they feem to fay, reft within his hall ? Doft thou always delight in blood ? in the tears of the fad ? No : ye dark-rolling years, Fingal delights not in blood. Tears are wintry dreams, that walfe away my foul. But, when I lie down to reft, then comes the niigh- ty voice of war. It awakes me in my hall, and calls forth all my (teel. It lliall call it forth no more : Oflian, take thou thy father's fpear. Lift it, in battle, when the proud arife. " My fathers, Oflian, trace my fteps ; my deeds are pleafant to their eyes. Wherever I come forth to battle, on my field are their columns of mift. But mine arm refcued the feeble ; the haughty found my rage was fire. Never over the fallen did mine eye rejoice. For ihisf, my fathers fhall meet me, at the gates of their airy halls, tall, with robes of light, with mildly-kindled eyes. But, to * Cathmor reili;6>s, with pleafure, even in his laft moments, on the relief he had ofForded to ftrangers. The very tread of their feet was pleafant in h:s ear. His hofpitality- was not paffed unnoticed by the bards; for, wuh them, it became a pro- verb, when they defcribcd the hofpitable difpofition of a hero, that he zuas like Cath- mor of Atha, tilt frimd of Jlr angers. It will feem ftran:;e, that, in all the Irilh poems, there is no mention made of Cathmor. This muO be attributed to the re- volutions and domeSie confufions which happened in that ifland, and utterly cut off all the real trad.tions concerning; To ancient a period. All that we have reh.tcd t)f the ftate of Ireland before the hfth century is of late invention, and the work cf iil informed fenachies and injudicipus bards. + The Celtic nations had fome idea of rewards, and perhaps of pumniments, after death. Thofe who behaved, in life, with bravery and virtue, were received, with joy, to the airy halls of their fathers; hnt the dark in fcul, to ufe the expref- fion of the poet, v/ere fpurned away from the habitation cf heroes, to wander on all the winds. Another opmicn, which prevailed in thofe times, tended not a httlc to make individuals emulous to excel one another in martial atchievemems. It was thought, that, in the hall of clouds, every one had a feat, raifed ahov: ■':•::, in proportion as h'i exceUed ihcm, in valour, when he lived. 348 T E M O R A: to the proud in arms, they are darkened moons In hea- ven, which fend the fire of night, red-wandering over their face. " Father of heroes, Trenmor, dweller of eddying v/inds ! I give thy fpear to Offian ; let thine eye rejoice. Thee have I feen, at times, bright from between thy clouds ; fo appear to my fon, when he is to lift the fpear : then fliall he remember thy mighty deeds, though thou art now but a blafl." He gave the fpear to my hand, and raifed, at once, a fione on high, to fpeak to future times, with its grey head of mofs. Beneath he placed a fword * in earth, and one bright bofs from his fhield. Dark in thought, a-while, he bends : his words, at length, come forth. " When thou, O Hone, fhalt moulder down, and lofe thee, in the mofs of years, then fhall the traveller come, and, whiflling, pafs away. Thou knovi^'ft not, feeble man, that fame once fhone on Moi-lena. Here Fingal refigned his fpear, after the lafl of his fields. Pafs away, thou empty fhade ; in thy voice there is no renown. Thou dwelleft by fome peaceful flream ; yet a few years, and thou art gone. No one remembers thee, thou dweller of thick milt ! But Fingal lliail be clothed with fame, a beam of light to other times ; for he went forth, in echo- ing fteel, to fave the weak in arms." Br-Ightening in his fame, the king (Irode to Lubar's founding oak, where it bent, from its rock, over the bright-tumbling flream. Beneath it is a narrow plain, and the found of the fount of the rock. Here the ftand- Jird| of Morven poured its wreaths on the wind, to mark the way of Ferad-artho, from his fecret vale. Bright, from his parted weft, the fun of heaven looked abroad. The hero faw his people, and heard their Ihouts of joy. In broken * There are fome ftones flill to be feen in the north, which were erefted as me- morials of fome remarkable tranfaQions between the ancient chiefs. There are ge- nerally tound, beneath them, fome piece of aims, and a bit of half-burnt wood. The caufe of placing; the lafl there, is not mentioned in tradition. + The erefline of his ftandard on the bank of Lubar, was the fignal which Fingal, in the beginnmg of the book, promifed to give to the chiefs, who went to conduft Ferad-artho to the army, {hould he himfelf prevail in battle. This ftandard here is called ihi: fun- beam. The reafon of this appellation, I gave in my notes on the poem intitlcci Fingal. Book VIII. An EPIC POEM. 349 broken ridges round, they glittered to the beam. The king rejoiced ; as a hunter in his own green vale, when, after the florm is rolled away, he fees the gleaming fides of the rocks. The green thorn fhakes its head in their face ; from their top look forward the roes. *GREy, at his moffy cave, is bent the aged form of Clonmal. The eyes of the bard had failed. He leaned forward on his ftaff. Bright, in her locks, before him, Sul-malla liftened to the tale ; the tale of the kings of Atha, in the days of old. The noife of battle had ceafed jn his ear : he ftopt, and raifed the fecret figh. The fpi- rits of the dead, they faid, often lightened along his foul. He faw the king of Atha low, beneath his bending tre?. " Why art thou dark ?" faid the maid. " The flrife of arms is pad. Soonf fhall he come to thy cave, over thy winding ftreams. The fun looks from the rocks of the weft. The mifts of the lake arife. Grey, they fpread on that hill, the rufliy dwelling of roes. From the mift Ihall my king appear. Behold, he comes in his arms ! Come to the cave of Clonmal, O my beft beloved !'* It was the fpirit of Cathmor, ftalking, large, a gleam- ing form. He funk by the hollow ftream, that roared be- tween the hills. " It was but the hunter," fhe faid, " who fearches for the bed of the roe. His fteps are not forth to war ; his fpoufe expe£ts him with night. He fliall, whift- ling, return, vv^ith the fpoils of the dark-brown hinds." Her eyes were turned to the hill ; again the ftately form came down. She rofe, in the midft of joy. He retired again in mift. Gradual vanifh his limbs of fmoke, and mix with the mountain-wind. Then Ihe knew that he fell ! " King of Erin, art thou low !" Let Offian forget her grief: it waftes the foul of age 1|. Evening * The fcene is changed to the valley of Lona, ■whither Sul-malla had been fent, by Cathmor, before the battle. Clon-mal, an aged bard, or rather druid, as he feems here to be endued with a prefcience of events, had long dwelt there in a cave. This fcene is calculated to throw a melancholy gloom over the mind. t Cathmor had promifed, in the feventh book, to come to the cave of Clonmal, after the battle was over. II Tradition relates, that Offian, the ne\t day after the decifive battle between Fingal and Cathmor, went to find out Sul-malla, in the valley of Lona, His ad- drcfs to her, follows : " A'A'ake, 350 T E M O R A: Evening came down on Moi-Iena. Grey rolled the flreams of the land. Loud came forth the voice of Finpal ; the beam of oaks arofe. The people gathered round with gladnefs ; with gladnefs blended with flindes. They fide- long looked to the king, and beheld his unfiniflied joy. Pleafant, from the w^ay of the defart, the voice of mufic came. It feerned, at firft, the noiie of a ftreaiii, far-dillant, on its rocks. Slow it rolled along the hill, like the ruffled wing of a breeze, when it takes the tufted beard of the rocks, in the dill feafcn of night. It was the voice of Condan, mixed with Carrii's trembling harp. They came, with blue-eyed Ferad-artho, to Mora of the flreams. , SuDDLN burfts the fong from our bards, on Lena : the hoft ftruck their iliields midft the found. Gladnefs rofe brightening on the king, like the beam of a cloudy day, when it rifes, on the green hill, before the roar of v/inds. He ftruck the bolTy ftiield of kings ; at once they ceafe around. The people lean forward, from their fpears, to- wards the voice of their land*. " Sons " Awake, thou daughter of Conmor, from the fern-dcirted cavern of Lon?., Av.-akc, ihou lun-beam in deiarts ; warriors one day muftfail. They move forth, iiice terrible lights; but, often, their cloud is near. Go to the valley of ftreams, to the wandering of herds, on Lumon ; there dwells, in his lazy mift, the man of many davs. Bu'. he is unknown, Sul-malla, like the thillle of the rocks of roes; it fl.akcs its grey beard, in the wind, and falls, unfeen ot our eyes. Not luch are the kings of men, their departure is a meteor of fire, which pours its red courfe, from the df fart, oyer the bofom of night. " He is mixed with the warriors of old, thofe fires that have hid their heads. At times lliall they come forth in fong. Not forgot has the warrior failed. He has notfecn, Sul-malla, the fall of a beam of his own: no fair-haired fon, in his blood, young troubler of the field. I am lonely, young branch of Lumon, I may hear the voice of the feeble, when my flrength fhall have failed in years, for young Of- €ar has ceafed, on his field." — ***** Sul-malla returned to her own country. She makes a confiderable figure in ano- ther poem ; her behaviour in that piece accounts for that partial regard with which the poet ought to fpeak of her throughout Temora. * Before I finifh my noies, it may not be altogether improper to obviate an ob- •jeftioti;' which may be made to the credibility of the flory of Temora. It may be afked, whether it is probable, that Fingal could perform fuch actions as are afcribcd to him in this book, at an age when his grandfon, Ofcar, had acquired fo much re- -putation in arms. To this it mav be anfwcred, that Fmgal was but very young [book 4ih] when he took to wife Ros-crana, who foon after becam.e the mother of Offian. Offian was alio extremelv young when he married Ever-allin, the mother of Olcar. Tradition relates, that Fingal was but eighteen years old at the birth of his fon Oflian; and that OlTlni was much about the fame age, when Ofcar, his Ion, was born. Ofcar, perhaps, might be about twenty, when he was killed, in the Book VIII. An EPIC POEM. 35^ " Sons of Morven, fpread the feafl: ; fend the night away in fong. Ye have fhone around me, and the dark ftorm is pail. My people are the windy rocks, from which I fpread my eagle-wings, when I ru(h forth to renown, and feize it on its field. Offian, thou haft the fpear of Fingal : it is not the ftalf of a boy with which he ftrews the thiftle round, young wanderer of the field. No : it is the lance of the mighty, with which they ftretched forth their hands to death. Look to thy fathers, my fon ; they are awful beams. With morning lead Ferad-artho forth to the echoing halls of Temora. Remind him of the kings of Erin ; the ftatcly forms of old. Let not the fallen be forgot ; they were mighty in the field. Let Carril pour his fong, that the kings may rejoice in their mift. To-morrow I fpread my fails to Selma's fhaded walls ; where ftreamy Duthula winds through the feats of roes.'* the battle of Gabhra, [book ift] fo the age of Fingal, when the decifive battle was fought between him and Cathmor, vvasjuU (ifty-fix years. In thofe times of ac- tivity and health, the natural ftrength and vigour of a man was little abated, at fuch an age ; fo that there is nothing improbable in the aflions of Fingal, as related in this book. CONLATH CONLATH and CUTHONA P O E M. Yy ARGUMENT. CONLATH wasthcyoungell of Morni's fons, and brother to the celebrated Gaul. He was in love with Cuthona the daughter of Rumar, when Tofcar the fon of Kinfena, accompanied by Fercuth his friend, arrived, from Ireland, at Mora, where Conlath dwelt. He was hofpitably received, and, according to the cuflom of the times, feafted, three days, with Conlath. On the fourth he fet fail, and coafting the ijland of waves, one of the Hebrides, he faw Cuthona hunting, fell in love with her, and carried her away, by force, in his fhip. He was forced, by flrefs of weather, into I-thona a defart ifle. In the mean time Conlath, hear- ing of the rape, failed after him, and found him on the point of failing for the coaft of Ireland. They fought; and they and their followers fell by mutual wounds. Cuthona did not long furvive; for {lie died of grief the third day af- ter. Fingal, hearing of their unfortunate death, fent Stormal the fon of Moran to bury them, but forgot tp fend a bard to fmg the funeral fong over their tombs. The ghoft of Conlath comes, long after, to Offian, to intreat him to tranfmit to pofterity his and Cuthona's fame. For it was the opinion of the times, that the feu'.s of the deceafed were not happy, til! their elegies were compofed by a bard. % CONLATH AND CUTHOMA O E M. DID not OlTian hear a voice ? or Is It the found oi days that are no more ? Often does the memory of former times come, like the evening fun, on my foul. The noife of the chace is renewed. In thought, I lift the fpear. But Offian did hear a voice ! Who art thou, fon of night ? The children of the feeble are afleep. The midnight wind is in my hall. Perhaps It is the fhield of Fingal that echoes to the blaft. It hangs in Oilian's hall. He feels it fometimes with his hands. Yes ! I hear thee, my friend! Long has thy voice been abfent from mine ear ! What brings thee, on thy cloud, to Offian, fon of generous Morni ? Are the friends of the aged near thee? Where Is Ofcar, fon of fame ? He was often near thee, O Conlathj when the found of battle arofe. Ghost of Con lath. Sleeps the fweet voice of Cona, In the mldft of his ruftHng hall ? Sleeps Offian in his hall, and his friends without their fame ? The fea rolls round dark I-thona *. Our tombs are not feen In our ifle. How long fliall our fame be unheard, fon of refounding Selma ? OSSIAN. O THAT mine eyes could behold thee ! Thou fitteft, dim, on thy cloud ! Art thou like the mid of Lano ? an half-extlnguiflied meteor of fire ? Of what are the fklrts of thy robe ? of what Is thine airy bow ? He is gone on his blaft, like the Ihade of a wandering cloud. Come from thy wall, O harp ! Let me hear thy found. Let the light of * I-thona, ijland of waves, one of the uninhabited wellernifles. 356 CONLATH and CUTHONA: of memory rife on I-thona. Let me behold again my friends! — And Offian does behold his friends, on the dark- blue ifle. The cave of Thona appears, with its moffy rocks and bending trees. A ftream roars at its mouth. Tofcar bends over its courfe. Fercuth is fad by his fide. Cuthona * fits at a diftance, and weeps. Does the wind of the waves deceive me ? or do I hear them fpeak ? TOSCAR. The night was ftormy. From their hills the groaning oaks came down. The fea darkly tumbled beneath the blaft. The roaring waves climbed againft our rocks. Th^ lightning came often, and fhevv^ed the blafted fern. Fer- cuth ! I faw the ghoft who embroiled the night |. Silent he ftood, on that bank. His robe of mift flew on the wind. I could behold his tears. An aged man he feemed, and full of tkought ! Fercuth. It was thy father, O Tofcar. He forefees fome death among his race. Such was his appearance on Cromla, be- fore the great Ma-ronnan || fell. Erin of hills of grafs ! how pleafant are thy vales ? Silence is near thy blue flreams. The fun is on thy fields. Soft is the found of the harp in Selama § : lovely the cry of the hunter on Cromla. But we are in dark I-thona, furrounded by th® ftorm. The billows lift their white heads above our rocks. We tremble amidft the night. ToSCAR. Whither is the foul of battle fled, Fercuth with locks pf age ? I have feen thee undaunted in danger: thine eyes burning with joy in the fight. Whither is the foul of bat- tle fled? Our fathers never feared. Go: view the fettling fea. The ftormy wind is laid : the billows fl:ill tremble on * Cuthona, the daughter of Rumar, whom Tofcar had carried away by force, + It was long thought, in the north of Scotland, that florms were raifed by the ghofts of the deceafed. This notion is ftill entertained by the vulgar; for they think that whirlwinds, and fudden fqualls of wind, arc occafioned by fpirits, who tranf- port themfelves, in that manner, from one place to another. {{ Ma-ronnan was the brother of Tofcar. ^ Selamath, btautiful to beheld, the name of Tofcar's refidence, on the coaft of Ulfter, near the mountain Cromla. A POEM. 357 ©n the deep. They feem to fear the biafl. Go view the fettling fea. Morning is grey on our rocks. The fun will foon look from his eait ; in all his pride of light ! I lifted up my fails, with joy, before the hails of generous Con- .lath. My courfe was by a defart ifie, where Cuthona pur- fued ^he deer. I faw her, like that beam of the fun that ilfues from the cloud. Her hair was on her heaving bread. She, bending forward, drew the bow. Her white arm feemed, behind her, like the fnow of Cromla. Come to my foul, I faid, huntrefs of the defart ifle ! But fhe waftes her time in tears. She thinks of the generous Conlath. "Where can I find thy peace, Cuthona, lovely maid ! Cuthona *. A DISTANT lleep bends over the fea, with aged trees and mofly rocks. The billow re lis at its feet. On its fide is the dwelling of roes. The people call it Mora. There the towers of my love arife. There Conlath looks over the fea for his only love. The daughters of the chace re- turned. He beheld their downcail eyes. " Where is the daughter of Ruinar ?'* But they anfwered not. My peace dwells on Mora, fon of the diilant land! To SCAR. Cuthona fliall return to her peace ; to the towers of generous Conlath. He is the friend of Tofcar ! I have feafted in his halls. Rife, ye gentle breezes of Erin. Stretch my fails towards Mora's iliores. Cuthona fiiall reft on Mora ; but the days of Tofcar muft be fad. I fhall fit in my cave, in the field of the fun. The blaft will ruftle in my trees. I fliall think it is Cuthona's voice. But fhe is diflant far, in the halls of the mighty Conlath ! Cuthona. Ha ! what cloud is that ? It carries the ghoils of my fathers. I fee the Ikirts of their robes, like grey and watry mift. When fhall I fall, O Rumar ? Sad Cuthona fore- fees her death. Will not Conlath behold me, before I enter the narrow houfe f ? Ossian. * Cu-thona, the mournful found of the waves ; a poetical name given her on ac- count of her mourning to the found of the waves; her name in tradition is Gorm- Luil, the bhu-eyed maid, t The grave. 358 CONLATH and CUTHONA. OsSIAN. He fhall behold thee, O maid ! He comes along the heaving fea. The death of Tofcar is dark on his fpear. A wound is in his fide ! He is pale at the ra- ,: of Tliona. He fhews his ghaftly wound. Where art thou, - Hh thy tears, Cuthona ? The chief of Mora dies !— The vifion grows dim on my mind : I behold the chiefs no more 1 But, O ye bards of future times, remember the fall of Conlath with tears. He fell before his day. Sadnefs darkened in his hall. His mother looked to his fhield on the wall, and it was bloody |. She knew that her hero fell. Her forrow was heard on Mora. Art thou pale on thy rock, Cuthona, befide the fallen chiefs ? Night comes, and day returns, but none appears to raife their tomb. Thou frighteneft the fcreaming fowls away. Thy tears forever flow. Thou art pale as a watry cloud, that rifes from a lake ! The fons of green Selma came. They found Cuthona cold. They railed a tomb over the heroes. She reils at the fide of Conlath. Come not to my dreams, O Con- lath 1 Thou haft received thy fame. Be thy voice far- diftant from my hall, that lleep may defcend at night. O that I could forget my friends ; till my footfteps fhould ceafe to be feen ! till I come among them with joy ! and lay my aged limbs in the narrow houfe ! + It was the opinion of the times, that the arms left by the heroes at home, be- came bloody the very inftant their owners were killed, though at ever fo great a diftancc. BERRA- BERRATHON: POEM. ARGUMENT. PINGAL, in his voyage to Lochlin, whither he had been invited by Starno the fa- ther of Agandeccn, touched at Berrathon, an ifland of Scandinavia, where he was kindly entertained by Larthmor the petty king of the place, who was a vaf- fal of the fupreme kings of Lochlin. The hofpitality of Larthmor gained him Fingal's friendlhip, which that hero manifefted, after the imprifonment of Larth- mor by his own fon, by fending Offian and Tofcar, the father of Malvina fo of- ten mentioned, to refcue Larthmor, and to punlfh the unnatural behaviour of Uthal, Uthal was handfome, and, by the ladies, much admired. Nina-thoma^ the beautiful daughter of Torthoma, a neighbouring prince, fell in love and fled with hun. He proved unconflant; for another lady, whofe name is not men- tioned, gaining his aifeftions, he confined Nina-thoma to a del'art ifland near the coafl of Berrathon. She was relieved by Offian, who, in company with Tofcar, landing on Berrathon, defeated the forces of Uthal, and killed him in a fuigle combat. Nina-thoma, whofe love not all the bad behaviour of Uthal could erafe, hearing of his death, died of grief. In the mean time Larthmor is reflored, and Offian and Tofcar return in triumph to Fingal. The poem opens with an elegy on the death of Malvina, the daughter of Tof- car. and clofes with prefages of Oflian's death. ERRATHON A POEM. END thy blue courfe, O flream, round the narrow plain of * Lutha. Let the green woods hang over it, from their hills ; the fun look on it at noon. The thillle is there on its rock, and fhakes its beard to the wind. The flower hangs its heavy head, waving, at times, to the gale. " Why doft thou awake me, O gale," it feems to fay, " I am covered with the drops of heaven ? The time of my fading is near, the blaft that fliall fcatter my leaves. To- morrow fliall the traveller come ; he that faw me in my beauty fhall come. His eyes will fearch the field, but they will not find me ?" So fliall they fearch in vain, for the voice of Cona, after it has failed in the field. The hunter fhall come forth in the morning, and the voice of my harp fliall not be heard. " Where is the fon of car- borne Fingal ?" The tear will be on his cheek! Then come thou, O Malvina, with all thy mufic come. Lay OfTian in the plain of Lutha : let his tomb rife in the lovely field. Malvina ! where art thou, with thy fongs, with the foft found of thy fleps ? Son | of Alpin, art thou near ? where is the daughter of Tofcar ? " I paffed, O fon of Fingal, by Tor-iutha's moffy walls. The fnioke of the hall was ceafed. Silence was amonc^ the trees of the hill. The voice of the chace was over. I faw the daughters of the bow. I afl-ied about Malvina, but they anfwered not. They turned their faces away: thin darknefs covered their beauty. They were like ftars, on a rainy hill, by night, each looking faintly through her mifl." Z z Pleasant * L\ix\\3, fw/ft Jircam. + His father was one of Fingal's principal bards, and he had a poetical genius. 362 BERRATHON: Pleasant* be thy reft, O lovely beam! foon haft thou fet on our hills ! The fteps of thy departure were ilately, like the moon on the blue trembling wave. But thou haft left us in darknefs, firft of the maids of Lutha! We fit, at the rock, and there is no voice ; no light but the meteor of fire ! Soon haft thou fet, O Malvina, daugh- ter of generous Tofcar ! But thou rifeft like the beam of the eaft, among the fpirits of thy friends, where they fit, in their ftormy halls, the chambers of the thunder ! A cloud hovers over Cona. Its blue curling fides are high. The winds sre beneath it, with their wings. Within it is the dwelling | of Fingal. There the hero fits in darknefs. His airy fpear is in his hand. His fhield, half-covered with clouds, is like the darkened moon ; when one half ftill remains in the wave, and the other looks fickly on the field! His friends fit around the king, on mift ! They hear the fongs of Ullin: he ftrikes the half-viewlefs harp. He raifes the feeble voice. The lefler heroes, with a thoufand meteors, light the airy hall. Malvina rifes, in the midft ; a bluilr is on her cheek. She beholds the unknown faces of her fathers. She turns afide her humid eyes. '^Art thou come fo foon ?" faid Fingal, " daughter of generous Tofcar. Sadnefs dwells in the halls of Lutha. My aged fon II is fad ! I hear the breeze of Cona, that v/as wont to lift thy heavy locks. He comes to the hall, but thou art not there. Its voice is mournful among the arms of thy fa- thers ! Go, with thy ruftling wing, O breeze ! figh on Malvina's tomb. It rifes yonder beneath the rock, at the blue ftream of Lutha. The maids § are departed to their place. Thou alone, O breeze, mourneft there !" But who comes from the dulky weft, fupported on a cloud ? * (^{llan fpeaks. He calls Malvina a beam of light, and continues the meta- phor throughout the paragraph. + The defcription of this ideal palace oi' Fingal is agreeable to the notions of thofe times, concerning the (late of the deceafed, who were luppofed to purfue, after death, the pleafures and employments of their former life. The fituation of the Celtic heroes, in their feparate (tate, if not entirely happy, is more agreeable, than the notions of the ancient Greeks concerning their departed heroes. ' 11 Ofiian; who had a great fricndfliip for Malvina, both on account of her love for his fon Ofcar, and her attention to himfelf. § That is^ the young virgins who fung the funeral elegy over her tomb. A POEM. 363 cloud ? A fmile is on his grey, watry face. His locks of mift fly on wind. He bends forward on his airy fpear. It is thy father, Malvina ! " Why fliineil thou, fo foon, on our clouds," he fays, " O lovely light of Lutha! But thou wert fad, my daughter. Thy friends had palled away. The fons of little men * were in the hall. None remained of the heroes, but OlTian king of fpears !" And doft thou remember Offian, car-borne Tofcarf, fon of Conloch ! The battles of our youth were many. Our fwords went together to the field. They faw us com- ing like two falling rocks. The fons of the ftranger fled. *' There come the warriors of Cona!'* they faid. " Their fleps are in the paths of the flying !'* Draw near, fon of Alpin, to the fong of the aged. The deeds of other times are in my foul. My memory beams on the days that are paft ; on the days of mighty Tofcar, when our path was in the deep. Draw near, fon of Alpin, to the laft found of the voice of Cona ! The king of Morven commanded. I raifed my fails to the wind. Tofcar chief of Lutha flood at my fide : I rofe on the dark-blue wave. Our courfe was to fea-furrounded Berrathon||, the ifle of many florms. There dwelt, with his locks of age, the (lately flrength of Larthmor. Larth- mor, who fpread the feafl of fliells to Fingal, when he went to Starno's halls, in the days of Agandecca. But when the chief was old, the pride of his fon arofe ; the pride of fair-haired Uthal, the love of a thoufand maids. He bound the aged Larthmor, and dwelt in his founding halls ! Long pined the king in his cave, befide his rolling fea. Day did not come to his dwelling ; nor the burning oak by night. But the wind of ocean was there, and the parting beam of the moon. The red ftar looked on the king, when it trenbled on the weftern wave. Snitho came to * Tradition is entirely filent concerning what paiTed in the north, immediately after the death of Fingal, and all his heroes j by which it would fcem that the ac- tions of their fucceffors were not to be compared to thofe of the renowned Finga- lians. t Tofcar was the fon of that Conloch, who was alfo father to the lady, whofe U!ifortunate death is related in the laft epiftle of the fecond book of Fingal. || Bcrrathon, aprovwntoryin themidjl of waves. 3^4 BERRATHON: to Selma's hall : Snitho, the friend of Larthmor's youth. He told of the king of Berrathon : the wrath of Fingal arofe. Thrice he aifiimed the fpear, refolved to ftretch his h;.ind to Ilthai. But the memory * of his deeds rofe before the king. He fent his fon and Tofcar. Our joy was great on the rolling fea. We often half-unfheathed our fwords. For never before had we fought alone, in battles of the fpear. Night came down on the ocean. The winds departed on their wings. Cold and pale is the moon. The red flars lift their heads on high. Our courfe is flow along the coail of Berrathon. The white waves tumble on the rocks. " What voice is that," faid Tofcar, " which comes between the founds of the waves ? It is foft but mournful, like the voice of departed bards. But I behold a maidf. She fits on the rock alone. Her head bends on her arm of fnow. Her dark hair is in the v/ind. Hear, fon of Fingal, her fong; it is fmooth as the gliding ftream." We came to the filent bay, and heard the maid of night. " How long will ye roll around me, blue-tumbling wa- ters of ocean ? My dwelling was not always in caves, nor beneath the whiftling tree. The feaft was fpread in Tor- thoma's hall. My father delighted in my voice. The youths beheld me in the fteps of my lovelinefs. They blefled the dark-haired Nina-thoma. It was then thou didfl come, O Uthal ! like the fun of heaven ! The fouls of the virgins are thine, fon of generous Larthmor! But why doll thou leave me alone, in the midft of roaring v/aters ? Was my foul dark with thy death ? Did my white hand lift the fword ? Why then haft thou left me alone, king of high Finthormo j|.!" The tear ftarted from my eye, when I heard the voice of the maid. I ftood before her in my arms. I fpoke the words of pe^jce ! " Lovely dweller of the cave ! what figh is * The meaning is, that Fingal remembered his own great aClions, and confe- quently would not fully them by engaging in a petty war againft Uthal, who was fo far his inferior in valour and power, t Nina-thoma, the daughter of Torthoma, who had been confined to a defart ifland by her lover Uthal. II Finthormo, the palace of Uthal. The names in this epifode are not pf a Cel t!C original. A P O E M. 365 is in thy breaft ? Shall OiTian lift his fword In thy prc- fence, the dellruftion of thy foes ? Daughter of Tortho- ma, rife. I have heard the words of thy grief. The race of Morven are around thee, who never injured the weak. Come to our dark-bofomed (hip ! thou brighter than that fetting moon ! Our courfe is to the rocky Berrathon, to the echoing walls of Finthormo." She came in her beau- ty ; flie came, with all her lovely fteps. Silent joy bright- ened in her face ; as when the fliadows fly from the field of fpring ; the blue dream is rolling in brightnefs, and the green bufli bends over its courfe ! The morning rofe with its beams. We came to Roth- ma's bay. A boar rufhed from the wood : my fpear pierc- ed his fide, and he fell. I rejoiced over the biood *. I forefaw my growing fame. But now the found of Uthal's train came, from the high Finthormo. They fpread over the heath to the cbace of the boar. Hi:nfelf comes flowly on, in the pride of his flrenglh. He lifts two pointed fpears. On his fide is the hero's fword. Three youths carry his polifhed bows. The bounding of five dogs is before him. His heroes move on, at a diftance, admiring the fteps of the king. Stately v/as the fon of I.arthmor ! but his foul was dark ! Dark as the troubled face of the moon, when it foretels the ftorms ! We rofe on the heath before the king. He ftopt in the midft of his courfe. His heroes gathered round. A gray- haired bard advanced. " Whence are the fons of the flrangers ?" began the bard of fong. " The children of the unhappy come to Berrathon ; to the fword oi car- borne Uthal. He fpreads no feaft in his hall : the blood of ftrans:ers Is on his ftreams. If from Selma's walls ve come, from the mofly walls of Fingal, chufe three youths to go to your king, to tell of the fall of his people. Per- haps the hero may come and pour his blood on Uthal's fword. So lliall the fame of Finthormo arife, like the growing tree of the vale !" " Never * Oflian might liave t'louglit that his ki!lin,r;a boar op his fird landinj; in Berra- thon, was a good omen of his future fuccels in that ifland. The prefent Highland- ers look, with a degree of fuperftition, upon the fuccefs of their firfl action, after they have engaged in any defperate undertaking. 366 ERRATHON: " Neve p. will it rife, O bard," I faid, in the pride of my wrath. " He would flirink from the prefence of Fin- gal, whofe eyes are the flames of death. The fon of Com- hal comes, and kings vanifh before him. They are rolled together, like mift, by the breath of his rage. Shall three tell to Fingal, that his people fell ? Yes ! they m.ay tell it, bard ! but his people fliall fall with fame !" I STOOD in the darknefsof my ftrength. Tofcar drew his fword at my fide. The foe came on like a fcream. The mingled found of death arofe. Man took man ; fliield jnet fhield ; fleel mixed its beams with fteel. Darts hifs through air. Spears ring on mails » Swords on broken bucklers bound. As the noife of an aged grove beneath the roaring wind, when a thoufand ghofts break the trees by night, fuch was the din of arms ! But Uthal fell be- neath my fword. The fons of Berrathon fled. It was then 1 faw him in his beauty ; and the tear hung in my eye ! " Thou art fallen*, young tree," I faid, " with all thy beauty round thee. Thou art fallen on thy plains, and the field is bare. The winds come from the defart ; there is no found in thy leaves ! Lovely art thou in deathj fon of car-borne Larthmor !'* NiNA-THOMA fat on the fhore. She heard the found of battle. She turned her red eyes on Lethmal, the gray- haired bard of Selma. He alone had remained on the coaft, v/ith the daughter of Torthoma. " Son of the times of old !" flie faid, " I hear the noife of death. Thy friends have met with Uthal, and the chief is low ! O that I had remained on the rock, inclofed with the tumbling waves ! Then would my foul be fad, but his death would not reach my ear. Art thou fallen on thy heath, O fon of high Finthormo ! Thou didft leave me on a rock, but my fonl was full of thee. Son of high Finthormo ! art thou fallen on thy heath ?" She rofe pale in her tears. She faw the bloody fhield of Uthal. She fav/ it in Oflian's hand. Her fleps were diftraded * To mourn over the fall of their enemies, was a prafiice univeifal among the Celtic heroes. This is more a^rreeable to humanity, than the fliameful infulting oi the dead, fo conmion in Homer, and, after him, fervilely copied by all his imita- tors, the Imnrme Virgil not excepted, who have been more fuccefsful in borrowing the imperfcclions of that great poet, than in their imitations of his beauties. A P O E M. 367 diftrafted on the heath. She flew. She found him. She fell. Her foul came forth in a figh. Her hair is fpread on his face. My buriling tears defcend. A tomb arofe on the unhappy. My fong of woe was heard. " Reft, haplefs children of youth ! Reft at the noife of that moffy ftream ! The virgins will fee your tomb, at the chace, and turn away their weeping eyes. Your fame will be in fong. The voice of the harp will be heard in your praife. The daughters of Selma (hall hear It : your renown ftiall be in other lands. Reft, children of youth, at the noife of the molfy ftream." Two days we remained on the coaft. The heroes of Berrathon convened. We brought Larthmor to his halls. The feaft of Ihells is fpread. The joy of the aged was great. He looked to the arms of his fathers : the arms which he left in his hall, when the pride of Urhal rofe. We were renowned before Larthmor. He blefied the chiefs of Morven. He knew not that his fon was low, the ftately ftrength of Uthal ! They had told, that he had retired to the woods, with the tears of grief. They had told it ; but he was fdent in the tomb of Rothma's heath. On the fourth day we raifed our fails, to the roar of the northern wind. Larthmor came to the coaft. His bards exalted the fong. The joy of the king was great. He looked to Rothma's gloomy heath : he faw the tomb of his fon. The memory of Uthal rofe. " Who of my he- roes," he faid, " lies there ? He feems to have been of the kings of men. Was he renowned in my hails, before the pride of Uthal rofe ? Ye are filent, fons of Berra- thon ! is the king of heroes low ? My heart melts for thee, O Uthal ! though thy hand was againft thy father. O that I had remained in the cave ! that my fon had dwelt in Finthormo ! I might have heard the tread of his feet, when he went to the chace of the boar : I might have heard his voice on the blaft of my cave. Then would my foul be glad : but now darknefs dwells in my halls." Such* were my deeds, fon of Alpin, when the arm of my youth was ftrong. Such, the anions of Tofcar, the car-borne fon of Conloch. But Toicar is on his flying cloud. * OfTian fpeaks. 368 B E R R A T H O N : cloud. I am alone at Lutha. My voice is like the lall; found of the wind, when it forfakes the woods. But Offian ihail not be long alone. He fees the mill that fhall receive his ghoil. He beholds the mid that fhall form his robcy when he appears on his hills. The fons of feeble men fhall behold me, and admire the flature of the chiefs of old. They fhall creep to their caves. They fliall look to the llvy with fear ; for my fteps fliall be in the clouds. Dark- nefs fhall roll on my fide. Lead, fon of Alpin, lead the aged to his woods. The winds begin to rife. The dark wave of the lake refounds„ Bends there not a tree from Mora, with its branches bare ? It bends, fon of Alpin, in the ruflling blafl. My harp hangs on a blafled branch. The found of its firings is mournful. Does the wind touch thee, O harp ! or is it fome palfmg ghoft ? It is the hand of Malvina ! Bring me the harp, fon of Alpin. Another fong fliall rife. My foul fhall depart in the found. My fathers fhall hear it in their airy hall. Their dim faces fhall hang, with joy, from their clouds ; and their hands receive their fon. The aged oak bends over the flream. It fighs with all its mofs. The withered fern whiftles near, and mixes, as it waves, with Offian's hair. Strike the harp, and raife the fong : be near, with all your wings, ye winds. Bear the mournful found away to Fingal's airy hall. Bear it to Fingal's hall, that he may hear the voice of his fon j the voice of him that praifed the mighty ! The blafl of north opens thy gates, O king ! I behold thee fitting on mill, dimly gleaming in all thine arms. Thy form now is not the terror of the valiant. It is like a watry cloud ; when we fee the flars behind it, with their weeping eyes. Thy fhield is the aged moon ; thy fword, a vapour half-kindled with fire. Dim and feeble is the chief's v/ho travelled in brightnefs before I But thy fleps * are * This defcrlption of the power of Fingal over the winds and florms, and the image of his taking the fun, and hiding him in the clouds, do not correfpond with the preceding paragraph, where he is reprcfented as a feeble ghoft, and no mote Cac terror of the valiant; but it agrees wiih the notion of the times concerning the louis of the deceafed, who, it was fuppofed, had the command of the winds and tlonns, but took no conccin in the affairs of men. A POEM. 369 are on the winds of the defart. The florms are darkening in thy hand. Thou takefl the fun in thy wrath, and hidelt him in thy clouds. The fons of Httle men are afraid. A thoufand fhowers defcend. But when thou comefl forth in thy mildnefs, the gale of the morning is near thy courfe. The fun laughs in his blue fields. The grey flream winds in its vale. The bullies Ihake their green heads in the wind. The roes bound towards the defart. There is a murmur in the heath! the ftormy winds abate ! I hear the voice of Fingal. Long has it been ab- fent from mine ear ! " Come, Offian, come away," he fays : " Fingal has received his fame. We paifed away, like flames that had fhone for a feafon. Our departure was in renown. Though the plains of our battles are dark and lilentjOur fame is in the four grey {tones. The voice of Offian has been heard. The harp has been ftrung in Selma. Come, Offian, come away," he fays ; " come, fly with thy fathers on clouds." I come, I come, thou king of men ! The life of Offian fails. I begin to vanifh on Cona. My fteps are not feen in Selma. Befide the ftone of Mora I fliall fall afleep. The winds whiftiing in my grey hair, fhall not awaken me. Depart on thy wings, O wind 1 thou canft not difturb the reft of the bard. The night is long, but his eyes are heavy. Depart, thou ruft- ling blaft ! But why art thou fad, fon of Fingal ? Why grows the cloud of thy foul ? The chiefs of other times are depart- ed. They have gone without their fame. The fons of fu- ture years ftiall pafs away : another race fliall arife. The people are like the waves of ocean ; like the leaves of woody Morven : they pafs away in the ruftling blaft, and other leaves lift their green heads on high. Did thy beauty laft, O Ryno* ? Stood the ftrength of car-borne A a a Ofcar ? * Ryno, the fon of Fingal, who was killed in Ireland, in the war againft Swa- ran, was remarkable for the beauty of his perfon, his fwiftnefs and great exploits. Minvane, the daughter of Morni, and fifter to Gaul, was in love with Ryno. Her lamentation over her lover follows. I HE blufliing fad, from Morven's rocks, bends over the darkly-rolling fea. She > fees the youth in all their arms. Where, Ryno, where art thou ? Our c^^o B E R R A T H O N. Ofcar ? Fhigal himfelf departed. The halls of his fathers forgot his fteps. Shalt thou, then, remain, thou aged bard ! when the mighty have failed ? — But my fame (hall remain, and grow like the oak of Morven ; which lifts its broad head to the ftorm, and rejoices in the courfe of the wind ! Our dark looks told that he was low! That pale the hero flew on clouds ! That in the gials of Morven's hills, his feeble voice was heard in wind ! And is the fon of Fingal fallen, on Ullin's moffy plains? Strong was the arm that vanquifhed him ! Ah me ! 1 am alone ! Alone I fhall not be, ye winds ! that lift mv dark-brown hair. My fighs fliall not long mix with your fiream ; iox I mult fleep with Ryno. 1 fee thee not, with beauty's fteps, returning from the chace. The night is round Minvane's have. Dark filence dwells with Ryno. Where are thy dogs, and where thy bow? Thy Qiield, that was fo ftrong? Thy fword, like heaven's defcending fire ? The bloody fpear of Ryno ? I fee them mixed in thy deep fiiip; I fee them flained with blocj. No arms are in thv narrow hall, O darkly-dv/elling Ryno ! When will the morning come, and fay, " arife, thou king of fpears ! arife, the hunters are abroad. The hinds are near thee, Rynol" Away, thou fair-haired morning, away ! the flumbering king hears thee not ! The hinds bound over his narrow tomb ! for death dwells round young Ryno. But I will tread foftly, my king! and fleal to the bed of thy repofe. Minvane •will lie in filence, sor difturb the flumbering Ryno. The maids fliall fcek me ; but they (hall not find me : they fliall follow my de- parture wnth fongs. But I fliall not hear you, O maids : I fleep with fair-hairei Ryno. DISSERTATION CONCERNING THE ^RA OF OSSIAN. # DISSERTATION CONCERNING THE .ERA ofOSSIAN. INQUIRIES into the antiquities of nations afford more pleafure than any real advantage to mankind. The in- genious may form fyftems of hiftory on probabilities and a few fads ; but at a great diftance of time, their accounts muft be vague and uncertain. The infancy of ftates and kingdoms is as deftitute of great events, as of the means of tranfmitting them to pofterity. The arts of polifhed life, by which alone fads can be preferved with certainty, are the productions of a well-formed community. It is then hif- torians begin to wiite, and public tranfadions to be worthy remembrance. The adions of former times are left in ob- fcurity, or magnified by uncertain traditions. Hence it is that we find fo much of the marvellous in the origin of every nation ; pofterity being always ready to believe any thing, however fabulous, that refleds honour on their anceftors. The Greeks and Romans were remarkable for this weaknefs. They fwallowed the moft abfurd fables con- cerning the high antiquities of their refpedive nations. Good hiftorians, however, rofe very early amongfi; them, and tranfmitted, with luftre, their great adions to pofte- rity. It is to them that they owe that unrivalled fame they now enjoy, while the great adions of other nations are involved in fables, or loft in obfcurity. The Celtic nati- ons afford a ftriking inftance of this kind. They, though once the mafters of Europe from the mouth of the river Oby *, in Rufiia, to Cape Finifterre, the weftern point of Gallicia in Spain, are very little mentioned in hiftory. They truftid their fame to tradition and the forigs of their bards, which, by the viciftitude of human affair:,, are long iincc ^ Plin. 1, G. 374 A DISSERTATION concerning fmce loft. Their ancient language is the only monument that remains of them; and the traces of it being found in places fo widely diftant from each other, ferves only to ihew the extent of their ancient power, but throws very little light on their hiftory. Of all the Celtic nations, that which poflfefled old Gaul is the moft renowned ; not perhaps on account of worth fuperior to the reft, but for their wars with a people who hadrhiftorians to tranfmit the fame of their enemies, as well as their own, to pofterity. Britain was firft peopled by them, according to the teftimony of the beft authors * ; its fituation in refpedt to Gaul makes the opinion proba- ble ; but what puts it beyond all difpute, is that the fame cuftoms and language prevailed among the inhabitants of both in the days of Julius Caefar f . The colony from Gaul poffeifed themfelves, at firft, of that part of Britain which was next to their own country; and fpreading northward, by degrees, as they increafed in numbers, peopled the whole iiland. Some adventurers paffing over from thofe parts of Britain that are wdthin fight of Ireland, were the founders of the Irifti nation : which is a more probable ftory than the idle fables of Mi- iefian and Gallician colonies. Diodorus Siculus || menti- ons it as a thing well known in his time, that the inhabi- tants of Ireland were originally Britons, and his teftimony is unqueftionable, when we confider that, ibr many ages, the language and cuftoms of both nations were the fame. Tacitus was of opinion that the ancient Caledonians were of German extrad ; but even the ancient Germans themfelves were Gauls. The prefent Germans, properly fo called, were not the fame with the ancient Celtse. The manners and cuftoms of the two nations were fimilar; but their language different. The Germans § are the genuine defcendents of the ancient Scandinavians, who croffed, in an early period, the Baltic. The Celtas %, anciently, fent many colonies into Germany, all of whom retained their own laws, language, and cuftom.s, till they were diflipated, in * Csef. 1. 5. Tac. A'^nc. c. 2. + Cccfar. Pomp. Mel, Tacitus. Ij Diod. Sic.1.5. ' [I Strabo, 1. 7. ^ Csf. L 6. Liv. 1. 5. Tac. de mor. Genu. THE ^RA OF OSSIAN. 375 in the Roman empire ; and It is of them, if any colonies came from Germany into Scotland, that the ancient Ca- ledonians were defcended. But whether the Caledonians were a colony of the Cel- tic Germans, or the famxC with the Gauls that firft poffef- fed themfelves of Britain, is a matter of no moment at this diftance of time. Whatever their origin was, we find them very numerous in the time of Julius Agricola, which is a prefumption that they were long before fettled in the country. The form of their government was a mixture of ariftocracy and monarchy, as it was in all the countries where the Druids bore the chief fway. This order of men feems to have been formed on the fame principles -v^ ith the Daftyli Idasi and Curetes of the ancients. Their pre tended intercourfe Vv'ith heaven, their magic and divina- tion, were the fame. The knowledge of the Druids in na- tural caufes, and the properties of certain things, the fruit of the experiments of ages, gained them a mighty repu- tation among the people. The efteem of the popuhice foon increafed into a veneration for the order: which thefe cunning and ambitious priefts took care to improve, to fuch a degree, that they, in a manner, engroffed the ma- nagement of civil, as well as religious, matters. It is ge- nerally allowed that they did not abufe this extraordinary power ; the preferving their character of fanftity was fo eifential to their influence, that they never broke out into violence or oppreflion. The chiefs were allowed to exe- cute the laws, but the legiflative power was entirely in the hands of the Druids*. It was by their authority that the tribes were united, in times of the greateft danger, un- der one head. This temporary king, or Vergobretus f , was chofen by them, and generally laid down his office at the end of the war. Thefe prieils enjoyed long this extra- ordinary privilege, among the Celtic nations who lay be- yond the pale of the Roman empire. It was in the begin- ning of the fecond century that their power among the Caledonians began to decline. The traditions concerning Trathal and Cormac, anceftors to Fingal, are full of the particulars of the fail of the Druids : a fmgular fate, it m.uft * Csf, 1. 6. f Fer-gubrcth, theman to jud^e. 376 A DISSERTATION concerning mufl be owned, of priefts, who had once eflabli(hed their fuperflition ! The continual wars of the Caledonians againfl the Ro- mans hindered the better fort from initiating themlelves, as the cuftom formerly was, into the order of the Druids. The precepts of their religion were confined to a few, and were not much attended to by a people inured to war. The Vergobretus, or chief magiftrate, was chofen with- out the concurrence of the hierarchy, or continued in of- fice againft their will. Continual power ftrenp-thened his interefl among the tribes, and enabled him to fend down, as hereditary to his pofterity, the ofiice he had only re- ceived himfelf by eledion. On occafion of a new war againfl: the King of the World, as tradition emphatically calls the Roman emperor, the Druids, to vindicate the honour of the order, began to refume their ancient privilege of chufing the Vergobretus. Garmal, the fon of Tarno, being deputed by them, came to the grandfather of the celebrated Fingal, who was then Vergobretus, and commanded him, in the nri.me of the whole order, to lay down his office. Upon his refufal, a civil war commenced, which foon ended in the almoft to- tal extinQion of the religious order of the Druids. A fev/ that remained, retired to the dark. recelTes of their groves, and the caves they had formerly ufed for their meditati- ons. It is then we find them in the circle of Jlones, and un- heeded by the world. A total difregard for the order, and utter abhorrence of the Druidical rites, enfued. Under this cloud of public hate, all that had any knowledge of the religion of the Druids became extind, and the nation fell into the laft degree of ignorance of their rites and ce- remonies. It is no matter of wonder then, that Fingal and his fon Offian difliked the Druids, who were the declared enemies to their fucceffion in the fupreme magiftracy. It is a fin- gular cafe, it mufl: be allowed, that there are no traces of religion in the poems afcribed to Offian ; as the poetical compofitions of other nations are fo clofely conneded with their mythology. But gods are not neceffary, when the poet has genius. It is hard to account for it to thofe who are THE ^RA OF OSSIAN. 2>n are not made acquainted with the manner of the old Scot- tifh bards. That race of men carried their notions of mar- tial honour to an extravagant pitch. Any aid given their heroes in battle was thought to derogate from their fame ; and the bards immediately transferred the glory of the ac- tion to him who had given that aid. Had the poet brought down gods, as often as Homer hath done, to aflift his heroes, his work had not confided of eulogiums on men, but of hymns to fuperior beings. Thofe who write in the Galic language feldom mention religion in their profane poetry; and when they profefledly write of religion, they never mix with their compofitions, the adions of their heroes. This cuftom alone, even tho' the religion of the Druids had not been previouily extin- guifhed, may, in fome meafure, excufe the author's filcnce concerning the religion of ancient times. To allege, that a nation is void of all religion, would betray ignorance of the hiftory of mankind. The tradi- tions of their fathers, and their own obfervations on the works of nature, together with that fuperflition which is inherent in the human frame, have, in all ages, raifed in the minds of men fome idea of a fnperior being. Hence it is, that in the darkefl times, and amongft the mofl bar- barous nations, the very populace themfelves had fome faint notion, at leafl of a divinity. The Indians, who wor- ihip no God, believe that he exifts. It would be doing injuftice to the author of thefe poems, to think, that he had not opened his conceptions to that primitive and grcateil of all truths. But let his religion be what it will, it is certain that he has not alluded to Chriftianity, nor any of its rites, in his poems ; which ought to fix his opi- nions, at lead to an sera prior to that religion. Conjec- tures, on this fubjecl, mull fupply the place of proof. The perfecution begun by Dioclefian, in the year 303, is the moft probable time in which the firft dawning of Chrifti- anity in the north of Britain can be fixed. The humane and mild character of Conftantius Chlorus, who com- manded then in Britain, induced the perfecuted Chriftians to take refuge under him. Some of them, through a zeal to propagate their tenets, or through fear, went beyond B b b the 378 A DISSERTATION concerning the pale of the Roman empire, and fettled among the Ca- ledonians ; who were ready to hearken to their doctrines, as the religion of the Druids was exploded long before. These miflionaries, either through choice, or to give more weight to the do£trine they advanced, took polTeffion of the cells and groves of the Druids ; and it was from this retired life that they had the name of Culdees*, which in the language of the country {i^m^edifeque/ieredperfons. It was with one of the Culdees that OlTian, in his extreme old age, is faid to have difputed concerning the Chriftian religion. This difpute, they fay, is extant, and is couched in verfe, according to the cuftom of the times. The ex- treme ignorance on the part of Offian, of the Chriftian te- nets, fliews, that that religion had only been lately intro- duced, as it is not eafy to conceive, how one of the firft rank could be totally unacquainted with a religion that had been known for an,y time in the country. The difpute bears the genuine marks of antiquity. The obfolete phrafes and expreffions, peculiar to the times, prove it to be jio forgery. If Offian then lived at the introduction of Chrif- tianity, as by all appearance he did, his epoch will be the latter end of the third, and beginning of the fourth, cen- tury. Tradition here fteps in with a kind of proof. The exploits of Fingal againft Caracul f , the fon of the king of the worlds are among the firft brave adions of his youth. A complete poem, which relates to this fub- ject, is printed in this collection. In the year 210 the emperor Severus, after returning from his expedition againft the Caledonians, at York fell into the tedious illnefs of which he afterwards died. The Caledonians and Maiatae, refuming courage from his in- difpofition, took arms, in order to recover the pofleffions they had loft. The em^aged emperor commanded his ar- my to march into their country, and to deftroy it with fire and fword. His orders were but ill executed, for his fon, Caracalla, was at the head of the army, and his thoughts were entirely taken up with the hopes of his father's death, and with fchemes to fupplant his brother Geta. * Culdich. T Carac'huil, terrible eye. Carac'healla, imibk lock,. Carac'chaliamb, afor( of upper garment. THE ^RA OF OSSIAN. 379, Geta. ^He fcarcely had entered the enemy's country, when news was brought him that Severus was dead. — A fudden peace is patched up with the Caledonians, and, as it appears from Dion Caflius, the country they had loft to Severus was reftored to them. The Caracul of Fingal is no other than Caracalla, who, as the fon of Severus, the Emperor of Rome, whofe do- minions were extended almoft over the known world, was not without reafon called the Son of the king of the laorld* The fpace of time between 211, the year Severus died, the beginning of the fourth century, is not fo great, but Offian, the fon of Fingal, might have feen the Chriftiansi whom the perfecution under Dioclefian had driven be- yond the pale of the Roman empire. In one of the many lamentations on the death of Of- car, a battle which he fought againft Caros, king of fhips, on the banks of the winding Carun*, is mentioned among his great aftions. It is more than probable that the Caros mentioned here, is the fame with the noted ufurper Ca- raufms, who afl'umed the purple in the year 287, and feiz- ing on Britain, defeated the emperor Maximian Hercu- lius, in feveral naval engagements, which gives propriety to his being called the King of Ships. The winding Canm is that fmall river retaining ilill the name of Carron, and runs in the neighbourhood of Agricola's wall, which Ca- laufms repaired, to obftruft the incurfions of the Caledo- nians. Several other paflages in traditions allude to the wars of the Romans; but the two juft mentioned clearly fix the epocha of Fingal, to the third century ; and this account agrees exaftly with the Iriih hiftories, which place the death of Fingal, the fon of Comhal, in the year 283, and that of Ofcar and their own celebrated Cairbre, in the year 296. Some people may imagine, that the allufions to the Ro- man hiftory might have been derived by tradition, from learned men, more than from ancient poems. This mull then have happened at leaft three ages ago, as thefe allun- ons are mentioned often in the compofitions of thofe times* Every one knows what a cloud of ignorance and bar- barifm f Car-ravon, winding river. 38o A DISSERTATION concerning barifni oveffpread the north of Europe three hundred years ago. The minds of men, addidled to fuperftition, contra£led a narrownefs that deftroyed genius. Accord- ingly, we find the compofitions of thofe times trivial*and puerile to the laft degree. But let it be allowed, that, amidfl all the untoward circumftances of the age, a genius might arife, it is not eafy to determine what could induce him to allude to the Roman times. We find no fad to favour any defigns which could be entertained by any man who lived in the fifteenth century. The ftrongeft objection to the antiquity of the poems now^ given to the public under the name of Oflian, is the improbability of their being handed down by tradition through fo many centuries. Ages of barbarifm, fome will fay, could not produce poems abounding with the difin- terefted and generous fentiments fo confpicuous in the compofitions of Offian ; and could thefe ages produce them, it is impoflible but they mull be loft, or altogether corrupted, in a long fucceffion of barbarous generations. These objed:ions naturally fuggeft themfelves to men unacquainted with the ancient ftate of the northern parts of Britain. The bards, who were an inferior order of the Druids, did not Ihare their bad fortune. They were fpared by the viftorious king, as it was through their means only he could hope for immortality to his fame. They attended him in his camp, and contributed to efta- blifti his power by their fongs. His great actions were mag- nified, and the populace, who had no ability to examine into his character narrowly, were dazzled with his fame in the rhimes of the bards. In the mean time, men af- fumed fentiments that are rarely to be met with in an age of barbarifm. The bards, who were originally the difci- ples of the Druids, had their minds opened, and their ideas enlarged, by being initiated in the learning of that celebrated order. They could form a perfed; hero in their own minds, and afcribe that character to their prince. The inferior chiefs made this ideal character the model of their condud, and by degrees brought their minds to that generous fpirit which breathes in all the poetry of the times. The prince, flattered by hi* bards, and rivalled in THE JEKA OF OSSIAN. 381 by his own heroes, who imitated his charafter as defcribed in the eulogies of his poets, endeavoured to excel his peo- ple in merit, as he was above them in llation. This emu- lation continuing, formed at lafl the general character of the nation, happily compounded of what is noble in bar- barity, and virtuous and generous in a polilhed people. When virtue in peace, and bravery in war, are the charafteriftics of a nation, their adlions become intereft- ing, and their fame worthy of immortality. A generous fpirit is warmed with noble aftions, and becomes smbiti- ous of perpetuating them. This is the true fource of that divine infpiration, to which the poets of all ages pretend- ed. When they found their themes inadequate to the warmth of their imaginations, they varnifhed them over with fables, fupplied by their own fancy, or furnifhed by abfurd traditions. Thefe fables, however ridiculous, had their abettors : pofterity either believed them, or, through a vanity natural to mankind, pretended they did. They loved to place the founders of their families in the days of fable, when poetry, without the fear of contradidion, could give what charadlers Ihe pleafed of her heroes. It is to this vanity that we owe the prefervation of what re- main of the more ancient poems. Their poetical merit made their heroes famous in a country where heroifm was much efleemed and admired. The pofterity of thofe he- roes, or thofe who pretended to be defcended from them, heard with pleafure the eulogiums of their anceftors; bards were employed to repeat the poems, and to record the con- nexion of their patrons with chiefs fo renowned. Every chief, in procefs of time, had a bard in his family, and the office became at laft hereditary. By the fucceffion of thefe bards, the poems concerning the anceftors of the family were handed down from generation to generation ; they were repeated to the whole clan on folemn occafions, and always alluded to in the new compofitions of the bards. This cuftom came down to near our own times; and after the bards were difcontinued, a great number in a clan re- tained by memory, or committed to writing, their compo- fitions, and founded the antiquity of their families on the authority of their po:ims. Tkk 382 A DISSERTATION concerning The ufe of letters was not known in the north of Eii= rope till long after the inftitution of the bards : the records of the families of their patrons, their own, and more an- cient poems, were handed down by tradition. Their poetical compofitions were admirably contrived for that purpofe. They were adapted to mufic ; and the moll perfect harmony was obferved. Each verfe was fo con- neded with thofe which preceded or followed it, that if one line had been remembered in a ftanza, it was almoft impoffible to forget the reft. The cadences followed in fo natural a gradation, and the words were fo adapted to the common turn of the voice, after it is raifed to a cer- tain key, that it was almoft impoffible, from a fimilarity of found, to fubftitute one word for another. This ex- cellence is peculiar to the Celtic tongue, and perhaps is to be met with in no other language. Nor does this choice of words clog the fenfe or weaken the expreffion. The numerous flections of confonants, and variation in declen- fion, maka the language very copious. The defcendents of the Celtse, who inhabited Britain and its ifles, were not fmgular in this method of preferving the moft precious monuments of their nation. The an- cient laws of the Greeks were couched in verfe, and hand- ed down by tradition. The Spartans, through a long ha- bit, became fo fond of this cuftom, that they would never allow their laws to be committed to writing. The a£tions of great men, and the eulogiums of kings and heroes, were preferved in the fame manner. All the hiftorical monuments of the old Germans were comprehended in their ancient fongs * ! which were either hymns to their gods, or elegies in praife of their heroes, and were in- tended to perpetuate the great events in their nation which were carefully interwoven with them. This fpecies of compofition was not committed to writing, but delivered by oral tradition f. The care they took to have the poems taught to their children, the uninterrupted cuftom of re- peating them upon certain occafions, and the happy mea- fure of the verfe, ferved to preferve them for a long time uncorrupted. This oral chronicle of the Germans was not * Tacit, dc iTior. Germ. ^ Abbi dtla Bidcrie Ranarqitesfur laGevviaine. THE .^RA OF OSSIAN. 383 aot forgot in the eighth century, and it probably would have remained to this day, had not learning, which thinks every thing, that is not committed to writing, fabulous, been introduced. It was from poetical traditions that GarcillaiTo compofed his account of the Yncas of Peru. The Peruvians had loft all other monuments of their hif- tory ; and it was from ancient poems which his mother, a princefs of the blood of the Yncas, taught him in his youth, that he colleded the materials of his hiftory. If other nations, then, that had been often overrun by ene- mies, and had fent abroad and received colonies, could, for many ages, preferve, by oral tradition, their laws and hiftories uncorrupted, it is much more probable that the ancient Scots, a people fo free of intermixture with fo- reigners, and fo ftrongly attached to the memory of their anceftors, had the works of their bards handed down with great purity. What is advanced, in this fhort DifTertation, it mull be confefled, is mere conjefture. Beyond the reach of re- cords, is fettled a gloom, which no ingenuity can pene- trate. The manners defcribed, in thefe poems, fuit the ancient Celtic times, and no other period, that is known in hiftory. We muft, therefore, place the heroes far back in antiquity ; and it matters little, who were their cotem- poraries in other parts of the world. If we have placed ringal in his proper period, we do honour to the manners of barbarous times. He exercifed every manly virtue in Caledonia, while Heliogabalus difgraced human nature at Rome, A I S S E R T A T I O N CONCERNING THE POEMS QF OSSIAN. Cc c k DISSERTATION CONCERNnTG THE P O E M S OF O S S I A N. THE hiilory of thofe nations, who originally poffefled the north of Europe, is lefs known than their man- ners. Deftitute of the ufe of letters, they themfelves had not the means of tranfmitting their great actions to re- mote poflerity. Foreign writers faw them only at a dif- tance, and defcribed theni as they found them. The va- nity of the Romans induced them to confider the nations beyond the pale of their empire as barbarians ; and con- fequently their hiftory unworthy of being inveftigated. Their manners and fmgular charader were matters of cu- riofity, as they committed them to record. Some men, otherwife of great merit among ourfelves, give into con- fined ideas on this fubjeft. Having early imbibed their idea of exalted manners from the Greek and Roman wri- ters, they fcarcely ever afterwards have the fortitude to al- low any dignity of character to any nation deftitute of the ufe of letters. Without derogating from the fame of Greece and Rome, we may confider antiquity beyond the pale of their empire worthy of fome attention. The nobler pafTions of the mind never ilioot forth more free and unreftrained than in the times we call barbarous. That irregular man- ner of life, and thofe manly purfuits from which barbarity takes its name, are highly favourable to a ftrength of mind unknown in poliilied times. In advanced fociety the cha- raders of men are more uniform and difguifed. The hu- man paffions lie in fome degree concealed behind forms, and artificial manners ; and the powers of the foul, with- out an opportunity of exerting them, lofe vigour. The times of regular government, and polifhed manners, are therefore 388 A DISSERTATION concerning therefore to be wifhed for by the feeble and weak in mind. An unffettled ftate, and thole convulfions which attend it, is the proper neld for an exalted charader., and the exer- tion of great parts. Merit, there, rifes always fuperior ; no fortuitous event can raife the timid aild mean into pow- er. To thofe who look upon antiquity in this li^ht, it is an agreeable profpect; and they alone can have real plea- fure in tracing nations to their fource. The eftabli&nient of the Celtic dates, in the north of Europe, is bevond the reach of written annals. The tra- ditions and fongs, to which they trufted their hiftory, were loll, or altogether corrupted^ in their revolutions and mi- grations ; which wer.h[J,ivot (icc^oi. TToinrcii 6 isrei rvf- ^oiv^a-i ftjr' aion^ \-x(x.:vi% AsyavTsj. Poiidonseus ap. Athen:euf , ]• 6. * PerhEecloca (fpeaking oiGaul) hoininibus paulatim excultis, vigucrc Jliidia laudabilium doctrinarwn ; inchoata per Eardcs & Euhages & Druidas. Et Bardi tjuidem fortia viroiiun illuflrium facia heioicis compofita verfibus rum dulcibus ly- raj modulls cantitarunt. Euhages vero fcrutantes feriem & iublimia natura- pan- €ir attention, from the earliell lime, mull have been how to traverfe the waters. Hence that knowledge of the ftars, fo ncccf- fary for guiding them by night, of which we find feveral traces in Ofiian's works; particularly in the beautiful delcription of Cathmor's (hicld, in the foventh book of Temora. Amono- all the northern maritime nations, navigation was very early iludied. Piratical incurfions were the chief means they employed for acquirincr booty ; and were among the firft exploits which diHinguiftied thejn in the world. Even the favage Americans were at their firft difcovery found to poft'efs the mofl furprifing fkill and dexterity in navigating their immenfe lakes and rivers. 434 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION on and unmiprovexi manners. At their feafts, the heroes prepared their own repaft ; they fat round the light of the burning oak ; the wind lifted their locks, and whiltled through their open halls. Whatever was beyond the ne- ceffaries of life was known to tl-aem only as the fpoil of the Roman province; " the gold of the ftranger ; the " lights of the ftranger ; the deeds of the flranger ; the " children of the reicn." This reprefentation of Offian's times, muff flrike us the more, as genuine and authentic, when it is compared with a poem of later date, which Mr. Macpherfon has preferved in one of his notes. It is that wherein five bards are re- prefented as paifing the evening in the houfe of a chief, and each of them feparately giving his defcription of the night. The night-fcenery is beautiful ; and the author has plainly imitated the ftyle and manner of OlTian : But he has allowed fome images to appear which betray a later period of fociety. For we meet with windows clap- ping, the herds of goats and cows feeking fhelter, the Ihepherd wandering, corn on the plain, and the v/akeful hind rebuilding the fhocks of corn which had been over- turned by the tempcft. Whereas in Oilian's works, from beginning to end, all is confident: no modern allufion drops from him ; but every where, the fame face of rude nature appears ; a country wholl]'" uncultivated, thinly inhabited, and recently peopled. The grafs of the rock, the flower of the heath, the thiPJ.e with its beard, are the chief or- naments of his landfcapes. " The defart," fays Fingal, *' is enough to me, with all its woods and deer.'* The circle of ideas and tranfaclions, is no wider than fuits fuch an age ; nor any greater diverfity introduced into characters, than the events of that period would na- turally difplay. Valour and bodily flrength are the ad- mired qualities. Contentions arife, as is ufual among fa- vage nations, from the flighteft caufes. To be affronted at a tournament, or to be omitted in the invitation to a feaft, TJae defcription of CutlmHln's clntiot, m the ill book of Fingal, h;is been object- ed to by fome, as rcpnicntine; greater magnificence than is conllltcnt with the lup- pofed poverty oFthat sgc. But this chariot is plainly on!v a horfe-litter ; and the gems mentioned in the defcription, are no other than the fnimng floncs or pebbles, ,i«a>n to {js frccjucnUy found along the M'eSlern coaR ol Seotlaml. THE POEMS OF OSSIAN-. 435 feafi, kindles a war. Women are often cariieei away by force ; and the whole tribe, as in the Homeric times, rile to avenge the wrong. The heroes fliow refinement ot fentiment, indeed, on feveral occafions, but none of man- ners. They fpeak of their pad a*ftions with freedom, boa(t of their exploits, and fing their own praife. In their bat- tles, it is evident that drums, trumpets, or bagpipes, were not known or ufed. They had no expedient for giving ' the military alarms but ilriking a fhield, or raifing a loud cry : And hence the loud and terrible voice of Fingal is often mentioned, as a necellary qualification of a great ge- neral ; like the l^oliv ^}.yoi.^oi m-:v-;a«05 of Homer. Of military difcipline or fkill, they appear to have been entirely defti- tute. Their armies feem not to have been numerous ; their battles were cliforderly ; and terminated, for the mod part, by a perfonal combat, or wreilling of the two chiefs ; after which, " the bard fung the long of peace, '' and the battle ceafed alone the field."' The manner of compofition bears all the marks of the greateH: antiquity. No artful tranfitions ; nor full and extended connedtion of parts ; fuch as we find among the poets of later times, when order and regularity of compo- iation were more ftudied and known ; but a ftyle always rapid and vehement ; in narrjjtion concife, even to abrupt- nefs, and leaving feveral circumftances to be fupplied by the reader's imagination. The language has all that figu- rative caff, which, as I before ilicwed, partly a glowing and undifciplined imagination, partly the llerility of lan- guage, and the want of proper terms, have always intro- duced into the early fpeech af nations ; and, in feveral refpecls, it carries a remarkable refemblance to the flyle of the Old Teflament. It deferves particular notice, as one of the moff genuine and deciiive characters of anti- quity, that very few general terms or abllrad ideas, are to be met with in the whole colletlion of Offian's works. The ideas of men, at frrft, were all particular. They had not words to exprefs general conceptions. Thefc were the confequence of more profound retleclion, and longer ac- quaintance with the arts of thought and of fpeech. Oilian, accordingly, almofl never expreifes himfelf in the abflra6f. His 435 A CRITICAL. DISSERTATION on His Ideas extended little farther than to the objefts he faw around him. A public, a community, the univerfe, were conceptions beyond his iphere. Even a mountain, a lea, or a lake, which he has occafion to mention, though only in a fimile, are for the mod part particularized ; it is the hill of Cromla, the dorm of the fea of Malmor, or the reeds of the lake of Lego. A mode of enprefiion which, whilft it is character! flical of ancient ages, is at the fame time highly favourable to defcriptive poetry. For the fame reafons, perfonification is a poetical figure not very common with OiTian. Inanimate objeds, fuch as winds, trees, flowers, he fometimes perfonilies with great beauty. But the perfoniiications which are fo familiar to later poets, of Fame, Time, Terror, Virtue, and the reft of that clafsj ■were unknown to our Celtic bard. Thefe were modes ot conception too abftraft for his age. All thefe are marks fo undoubted, and fome of them, too, fo nice and delicate, of the moft early times, as put the high antiquity of thefe poems out of queftion. Efpe- cially when we confider, that if there had been any im.- potlure in this cafe, it muft have been contrived and exe- cuted in the Highlands of Scotland, two or three centu- ries ago ; as up to this period, both by manufcripts, and by the teftimony of a multitude of living witnefles, con- cerning the uncontrovertible tradition of thefe poems, they can clearly be traced. Now, this is a period when that country enjoyed no advantages for a compofition of this kind, which it may not be fuppofed to have enjoyed in as great, if not in a greater degree, a thoufand years before. To fuppofe that tVvO or three hundred years 3go, when we well knov/ the Highlands to have been in a ftate of grofs ignorance and barbarity, there fhould have arifen in that country a poet, of fuch exquifite genius, and of fuch deep knowledge of mankind, and- of hiftory, as to diveft him- fclf of the ideas and manners of his own age, and to give us a juft and natural pidure of a ftate of fociety ancienter by a thoufand years ; one who could fupport this counter- feited antiquity through fuch a large collection of poems, without the leaft inconfiftency ; and who, poffeHed of all this genius and art, had at the fame time the felf-denial of concealing THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 437 concealing himfelf, and of afcribing his own works to an antiquated bard, without the impofiure being deteded ; is a fuppofition that tranfcends all bounds of credibility. There are, befides, two other circumftances to be at- tended to, fhill of greater weight, if poffible, againft this hypothefis. One is, the total abfence of religious ideas Irom this work ; for which the tranilator has, in his pre- face, given a very probable account, on the footing of its being the work of Ofiian. The druidical fupericition was, in the days of Offian, on the point of its final extinction ; and, for particular reafons, odious to the family of Fingal ; whilft the Chiiftian faith was not yet eftabliflied. But had it been the work of one, to whom the ideas of chriilianity were familiar from his infancy ; and who had fuperadded to them alfo the bigotted fuperftidon of a dark age and country ; it is impoffible but, in fome palTage or other, the traces of them would have appeared. The other cir- cuniitance is, the entire filence which reigns with refpe£i to all the great clans or families, v/hich are now eftablifn- ed in the Highlands. The origin of thefe, feveral clans is known to be very ancient : And it is as well known, that there is no nafiion bv which a native Highlander is more diftinguiflied, than by attachment to his clan, and jealoufy for its honour. That a Highland bard, in forging a work relating to the antiquities of his country, fliould have in- ferted no circumftance which pointed out the ri:e of his own clan, which afcertained its antiquity, or incrcafedits glory, is of all fuppofitions that can be formed, the mod improbable ; and the filence on this head, amounts to a demonftration that the author lived before any of the pre- fent great clans were formed or known. Assuming it then, as we well may, for certain, thr.t the poems now under confideration, are genuine venerable monuments of very remote antiquity ; I proceed to make fome remarks upon their general fpirit and llrain. The two great charattcriltics of Ofiian's poetry are, tendernefs and fublimity. It breathes -nothing of tlie gay and chearful kind ; an air of folemnity and fcriouineis is difFufed over the whole. OfTian is perhaps the only poet who never relaxes, or lets himfelf down, into the liglit and amuling 438 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION on amufing drain ; which I readily admit to be no fmall dif- advantage to him, with the bulk of readers. He moves perpetually in the high region of the grand and the pa- thetick. One key note is Itnick at the beginning, and fup- ported to the end ; nor is any ornament introduced, but what is perfeftiy concordant with the general tone or me- lody. The events recorded, are all ferious and grave ; the fcenery throughout, wild and romantic. The extend- ed heath by the fea-lhore ; the mountain fhaded with mid ; the torrent rudiing through a foiita,ry valley ; the fcattered oaks, and the tombs of warriors overgrown with mofs ; all produce a folemn attention in the mind, and prepare it for great and extraordinary events. We find not in Oflian, an imagination that fports itfelf, and drelfes out gay trifles to pleafe the fancy. His poetry, more, perhaps, than that of any other writer, deferves to be diled. The Poetny of the Heart. It is a heart penetrated with noble fentiments, and with fublime and tender paffions; a heart that glows, and kindles the fancy; a heart that is full, and pours itfelf forth. Odian did not write, like modern poets, to pleafe readers and critics. He fung from the love of poetry and fong. His delight was to think of the heroes among whom he had flouriflied ; to recall the ad'efting incidents of his life ; to dwell upon his pad wars and loves and friend- iliips ; till, as he exprelfes it himfelf, " there comes a '' voice to Offian and awakes his foul. It is the voice of '- years that are gone ; they roil before me with all their " deeds ;" and, under this true poetic infpiration, giving vent to his genius, no wonder we diould fo often hear and acknowledge, in his drains, tJie powerful and evcr- pleaiing voice of nature. Arte, natura potentior omni. — Ed Deus in nobis, agitante calefcimus illo. It is neceflary here to obferve, that the beauties of Of- fian's writings cannot be felt by thofe who have given them only a fmgle or a hady perufal. His manner is fo different from that of the poets, to whom Vv^e are mod ac- cudomed ; his dyle is fo concife, and fo much crouded with imagery; the mind is kept in fuch a dreich in accom- panying THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 439 panying the author ; that an ordinary reader is at firft apt to be dazzled and fatigued rather than pleafed. His poems require to be taken up at intervals, and to be frequently reviewed ; and then it is impoffible but his beauties mu(l open to every reader who is capable of fenfibility. Thofe who have the highefl degree of it, will relifli them the mod'. As Homer is, of all the great poets, the one whofe man- ner, and M'hofe times come the neareft to Offian's, we are naturally led to run a parallel, in fome inflances, between the Greek and the Celtic bard. For though Homer lived more than a thoufand years before Ollian, it is not from the age of the world, but from the flate of fociety, that we are to judge of refembling times. The Greek has, in feveral points, a manifeft fuperiority. He introduces a greater variety of incidents ; he poflTeiTes a larger compafs of ideas ; has more diverfity in his characters ; and a much deeper knowledge of human nature. It was not to be ex- pected, that in any of thefe particulars, Offian could equal Homer. For Homer lived in a country where fociety was much farther advanced ; he had beheld many more ob- jects ; cities built and flourilliing ; laws inftituted ; order, difcipline, and arts begun. His field of obfervation was much larger and more iplendid; his knowledge, of courfe, more extenfive ; his mind alfo, it fiiall be granted, more penetrating. But if Offian's ideas and objects be lefs di- veifified than thofe of Homer, they are all, however, of the kind fitted for poetry ; the bravery and generofity of he- roes, the tendernefs of lovers, the attachments of friends, parents, and children. In a rude age and country, though the events that happen be few, the undiffipated mind broods over them more ; they ftrike the imagination, and fire the paffions in a higher degree ; and of confequence become happier materials to a poetical genius, than the fame events when fcattered through the wide circle of more varied a£tion, and cultivated life. Homer is a more chearful and fprightly poet than Of- fian. You difcern in him all the Greek vivacity ; whereas Offian uniformly maintains the gravity and foiemnity of a Celtic here. This, too, is in a great meafure to be accounted for 440 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION on for from the different fituations In which they lived, partly perfonal, and partly national. Oflian had furvived all his friends, and was difpofed to melancholy by the incidents of his life. But befides this, chearfulnefs is one of the many bleffings which we owe to formed fociety. The fo- litary wild ftate is always a ferious one. Bating the fud- den and violent burfts of mirth, which fometimes break forth at their dances and fealls, the favage American tribes have been noted by all travellers for their gravity and ta- citurnity. Somewhat of this taciturnity may be alfo re- marked in Oliian. On all occafions he is frugal of his words ; and never gives you more of an image, or a de- fcription, than is juft fufficient to place it before you in one clear point of view. It is a blaze of lightning, which flalhes and vaniflies. Homer is more extended in his de- fer iptions ; and fills them up with a greater variety of cir- cumftances. Both the poets are dramatic ; that is, they introduce their perfonages frequently fpeaking before us. But Oflian is concife and rapid in his fpeeches, as he is in every other thing. Homer, with the Greek vivacity, had alfo fome portion of the Greek loquacity. His fpeeches in- deed are highly charafteriftical ; and to them we are much indebted for that admirable difplay he has given of human nature. Yet if he be tedious any where, it is in thefe ; fome of them trifling ; and fome of them plainly unfea- fonable. Both poets are eminently fublime ; but a differ- ence may be remarked in the fpecies of their fubiimity. Homer's fubiimity is accompanied with more impetuofity and hre ; Ollian's with more of a folemn and awful gran- deur. Homier hurries you along ; Oflian elevates, and fixes y;)U in aftonilhment. Homer is mod fublime in ac- tions and battles ; Offian, in defcription and fentiment. In the pathetick. Homer, when he chufes to exert it, has great power ; but Olfian exerts that power much oft- ner, and has the character of tendernefs far more deeply imprinted on his works. No poet knew better how to feize and melt the heart. With regard to dignity of fentiment, the pre-eminence muil: clearly be given to Of- lian. This, indeed, is a furprifmg circumilance, that in point of humanity, magnanimity, virtuous feelings of every kind, THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 441 kind, our rude Celtic bard fhould be diftinguifhed to fuch a degree, that not only the heroes of Homer, but even thole of the polite and refined Virgil, are left far behind by thofe of Offian. After thefe general obfervations on the genius and fpi- rit of our author, I now proceed to a nearer view, and more accurate examination of his works: and as Finoal is the firff great poem in this collection, it is proper to be- gin with it. To refufe the title of an epic poem to Fingal, becaufe it is not, in every little particular, exactly conform- able to the pradice of Hom.er and Virgil, v\^ere the mere fqueamifhnefs and pedantry of criticifm. Examined even according to Ariftotle's rules, it will be found to have all the eifential requiiites of a true and regular epic ; and to have feveral of them in fo high a degree, as at firft view to raife our aPLonifliment on finding Ollian's compofition fo agreeable to rules of which he was entirely ignorant. But our afi:oniiliment will ceafe, when we confider from what fource Ariftotle drew thofe rules. Homer knew no more of the laws of criticifm than OUian ; but guided by nature, he cofupofed in vei fe a regular ftory, founded oij. heroic adtions, which all pofterity admired. Ariflotle, with great fagacity and penetration, traced the caufe of this general admiration. He obferved what it was in Ho- mer's compofition, and in the condu6l of his flory, which. gave it fuch power to pleafe ; from this obfervation he de- duced the rules which poets ought to follow, who would write and pleafe like Homer ; and to a compofition form- ed according to fuch rules, he gave the name of an epic poem. Hence his whole fyftem arofe. Ariflotle ftudicd nature In Homer. Homer and OfTian both wrote from nature. No wonder that among all the three, there fhould be fuch agreement and conformity. The fundamental rules delivered by Ariflotle concern- ing an epic poem, are thefe: That the action which is the ground work of the poem, fhould be one, complete, and great ; that it fhould be feigned, not merely hilloricai ; that it fliould be enlivened with characters and manners ; and heightened by the marvellous. But before entering on any of thefe. It may perhaps K k k be 442 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION on be aficed, what Is the moral of FIngal ? For, according to M. Boflii, an epic poem is no other than an allegory con- trived to illuftrate Ibme moral truth. The poet, fays this critic, mud begin with fixing on fome maxim, or inftruc- tion, which he intends to inculcate on mankind. He next forms a fable, like one of iEfop's, wholly with a view to the mxoral ; and having thus fettled and arranged his plan, he then looks into traditionary hiilory for names and in- cidents, to give his fable fome air of probability. Never did a more_ frigid, pedantic notion, enter into the mind of a critic. We may fafeiy pronounce, that he who fliould compofe an epic poem after this manner, who fliould firft lay down a moral and contrive a plan, before he had thought of his perfonagcs and adors, might deliver, in- deed, very found inftrutlion, but would find few readers. There cannot be the leafl doubt, that the firfl objeft which ftrikes an epic poet, which fires his genius, and gives him any idea of his work, is the aclion or fubjeft he is to cele- brate. Hardly is there any tale, any fubjecl a poet can chufe for fuch a Vv^ork, but vvill afford fome general moral inftrudion. An epic poem is, by Its nature, one of the mofl moral of all poetical compofitlons ; but its moral tendency is by no means to be limited to fome common- place maxim, which may be gathered from the flory. It arifes from the admiration of heroic a6f:ions, which fuch a compofition is peculiarly calculated to produce ; from the virtuous emotions which the charafters and incidents raife, whilil we read it ; from the happy impreffion which all the parts feparately, as well as the whole taken toge- ther, leave upon the mind. Hov/ever, if a general moral he flill infiited on, FIngal obvioufly furnifhes one, not in- ferior to that of any other poet, viz. That Wifdom and Bravery always triumph over brutal force : or another nobler ffill ; That the mofl compleat vidory over an ene- my is obtained by that moderation and generofity which convert him into a friend. The unity of the epic adion, which, of all Arlftotle's rules, is the chief and moft material, is fo flriclly preferv- ed in FIngal, that it mufl be perceived by every reader. It is a more compleat unity than what arifes from relating the THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. Z143 the actions of orxe man, which the Greek critic juflly cen- fures as iraperfeit ; it is the unity of one enterprize, the deliverance of Ireland from the invafion of Swaran : an enterprize, which has furely the full heroic dignity. All the incidents recorded bear a conilant reference to one end ; no double plot is carried on ; but the parts unite into a regular whole : and a-s the aclion is one and great, fo it is an entire or compleat action. For we find, as the critic farther requires, a beginning, a middle, and an end ; a Nodus, or intrigue, in the poem ; difficulties occurring through Cuthullin's raOmefs and bad fuccefs ; thofe diffi- culties gradually furmounted ; and at lad the work con- ducted to that happy conclufion which is held effential to Epic Poetry. Unity is indeed obferved with greater ex- aftnefs in Fingal, than in almofl: any other Epic compofi- tion ; for, not only is unity of fubjeQ: maintained, but that of time and place alfo. The Autumn Is clearly point- ed out as the feafon of the adtion ; and from beginning to end the fcene is never fnifted from the heath of Lena, along the fea-fnore. The duration of the action in Fingal, is much fhorter than in the Iliad or ^neid. But, fure, there may befliorter as well as longer heroic poems ; and if the authority of ArlSfotle be alfo required for this, he fays ex- prelly that the epic compofition is indefinite as to the time of its duration. Accordingly, the action of the Iliad hits only forty-feven days, whilft that of the iEneid is conti- nued for more than a year. Throughout the whole of Fingal, there reigns that grandeur of fentiment, ftyle, and imagery, which ought ever to diflinguifli this high fpecies of poetry. The ftory is conducted with no fmall art. The poet goes not back to a tedious recital of the beginning of the w^ar with Swa- ran ; but haftening to the main aftion, he falls In exactly, by a moil happy coincidence of thought, with the rule nof Horace, Semper ad eventum feflinat, & In medias res, Non fecus ac notas, auditorem rapit- Nec gemino bellum Trojanum ordiair ab ovo. De Arte P.oet. He 444- A CRITICAL DISSERTATION on He invokes no mufe, for he acknowledged none ; but his occafional addreffes to Malvina, have a finer efFed; than the invocation of any mufe. He fets out with no formal propofition of his fubjecl ; but the fubject natu- rally and eafily unfolds itfelf ; the poem opening in an ani- mated manner, with the fituation of CuthuUin, and the arrival of a fcout who informs him of Swaran's landing. Mention is prefently made of Fingal, and of theexpefted affi({:ance from the ihips of the lonely ille, in order to give further light to the fubjeft. For the poet often fhows his addrefs in gradually preparing us for the events he is to introduce ; and, in particular, the preparation foi the ap- pearance of Fingal, the previous expectations that are raifed, and the extreme magnificence fully anfwering thole expectations, with which the hero is at length prefented to us, are all worked up with fuch Ikilful condud: as would do honour to any poet of the moft refined times. Homer's art in magnifying the charafter of Achilles has been uni- verfally admired. OfTian certainly fliews no lefs art in ag- grandizing Fingal. Nothing could be more happily ima- gined for this purpofe than the whole management of the' laft battle, wherein Gaul, the fon of Morni, had befought Fingal to retire, and to leave to him and his other chiefs the honour of the day. The generofity of the king in agreeing to this propofal ; the majefty with which he re- treats to the hill, from whence he was to behold the en- gagement, attended by his bards, and waving the light- ning of his fword ; his perceiving the chiefs overpowered by numbers, but, from unwillingnefs to deprive them of the glorv of victory by coming in perfon to their afTift- ance, firil fending Ullin, the bard, to animate their cou- rage ; arid, at lall, when the danger becomes more pref- iing, his rifmg in his might, anil interpofmg, like a divi- nity, to decide the doubtful fate of the day ; are all cir- cum.ilances contrived with fo much art, as plainly difcover the Celtic bards to have been not unpraCtifed in Heroic poetry. The llory which is the foundation of the Iliad is in it- felf as fnnple as that of Fingal. A quarrel arifes between Achilles and Agamemnon concerning a female Have ; on which, THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 445 which, Achilles, apprehending himfclf to be injured, vvith- draws his afliitance from the rell of the Greeks. The Greeks fall into great diftrefs, and befeech hiiu to be re- conciled to them. He refufes to fight for them in penon, but fends his friend Patroclus ; and, upon his being fiain, goes forth to revenge his death, and kills Heccor. The lubjed of Finqal is this : Swaran comes to invade Ire- land : Cuthullin, the guardian ef the young king, had ap- plied for aififtance to Fingal, who reigned in the oppofite coaft of Scotland. But, before Fingal's arrival, he is hurried by raih counfel to encounter Swaran. He is de- feated ; he retreats ; and defponds. Fingal arrives in this conjuncture. The battle is for fome time dubious ; but in the end he conquers Swaran ; and the remembrance of Swaran's being the brother of Agandecca, who had once faved his life, makes him difmifs him honourably. Ho- mer, it is true, has filled up his llory with a much greater variety of particulars than Oilian ; and in this has Ihewn a compafs of invention luperior to that of the other poet. But it muft not be forgotten, that though Homer be more circumllantial, his incidents however are lefs diverfified in kind than thofe of Offian. War and bloodfhed reign throughout the Iliad ; and, notwithftanding all the ferti- lity of Homer's invention, there is fo much unirormity in his fabjeds, that there are fevv' readers, who, before the clofe, are not tired of perpetual fighting. Whereas, ^n Offian, the mind is relieved by a more agreeable diverl;ty. There is a finer mixture of v\^ar and lieroifm, with love and frienddiip, of martial, with tender fcenes, than is to be met v/idi, perhaps, in any other poet, The epifodes, too, have great propriety ; as natural, and proper to that age and country ; confifling of the longs of bards, vv^hich are known to have been the great entGrtainment of the Celtic heroes in war, as v/ell as in peace. Thefe fongs are not introduced at random ; if- you except the epifode of Du- chomar and Morna in the firft book, v/hich, tho' beautiful, is more unartful than any of the reft ; they have always fome particular relation to the after xyho is interefted, or to the events which are going on ; and, whilll they vary the fcene, they preferve a fuflicient corinedion with the main 44S A CRITICAL DISSERTATION on main fubjed, by the fitnefs and propriety of their intro- duction. As Fingal's love to Agandecca, influences fome circum- ftances of the poem, particularly the honourable difmiiTion of Swaran at the end ; it was necelTary that we fliould be let into this part of the hero's (lory. But as it lay without the compafs of the prefent aftion, it could be regularly in- troduced no where, except in an epifode. Accordingly the poet, with as much propriety, as if Ariflotle himlelf had directed the plan, has contrived an epifode for this purpofe in the fong of Carril, at the beginning of the third book. . The conclufion of the poem is ftriclly according to rule ; and is every way noble and pleafnig. The reconci- liation of the contending heroes, the confolation of Cu- thullin, and the general felicity that crowns the action, footh the mind in a very agreeable manner, and form that paffage from agitation and trouble, to perfeft quiet and repole, which critics require as the proper termination of the epic work. " Thus they paffed the night in fong, and '* brought back the morning with joy. Fingal arofe on *' the heath ; and fliook his glittering fpear in his hand. " He moved firft towards the plains of Lena ; and we fol- " lowed like a ridge of fire. Spread the fail, faid the king *^ of Morven, and catch the winds that pour from Lena. *' — We rofe on the wave with fongs ; and rulhed with " joy through the foam of the ocean."— So much for the unity and general conduQ; of the Epic action in Fingal. With regard to that property of the fubjedt v/hich Ari- ilotle requires, that it iliould be feigned, not hiftorical, he muft not be underitood fo ftridly, as if he meant to exclude all fubjecls which have any foundation in truth. For fuch cxclufion would both be unieafonable in itfelf ; and what is more, would be contrary to the pradlice of Homer, who is known to have founded his Iliad on hiftorical fafts con- cerning the war of Troy, which was famous throughout all Greece. Ariflotle means no more than that it is the bufinefs of a poet not to be a mere annalift of facts, but to embelliOi truth with beautiful, probable, and ufeful fic- tions ; to copy nature, as he himfelf explains it, like paint- ers. THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 447 ers, who preferve a likenefs, but exhibit their objects morr grand and beautiful than they are in reality. That Ofiian has followed this courfe,and building upon true hiftorVjhas fufficiently adorned it with poetical fiction for aggrandizing his characters, and fafts, will not, I believe, be queflioned by mod readers. At the fame time, the foundation which thofe facts and characters had in truth, and the fliare which the poet himfeif had in the tranfa£tions which he records, mufl be conndered as no fmall advantage to his work. For truth makes an imprellion on the mind far beyond any fiction; and no man, let his imagination be ever fo flrong^ relates any events fo feelingly as thofe in which he has been interefled ; paints any fcene fo naturally as one which he has feen ; or draws any characters in fuch ftrong co- lours as thofe which he has perfonally known. It is con- fidered as an advantage of the epic iubject, to be taken from a period fo diltant, as by being involved in the dark- nefs of tradition, may give licence to fable. Though Of- iian's fubjeft may at firft view appear unfavourable in this refpeft, as being taken from his own times, yet when we refleft that he lived to an extreme old age; that he relates what had been tranfacted in another country, at the dif- tance of many years, and after all that race of men who had been the aftors were gone off the ftage ; we fliali find the objection in a great meafure obviated. In fo rude au age, when no written records were known, when tradition was loofe, and accuracy of any kind little attended to, what was great and heroic in one generation, eafily ripen- ed into the marvellous in the next. The natural reprefentation of human characters in an Epic Poem is highly cfiential to its merit : And in refpecl of this there can be no doubt of Homer's excelling all the heroic poets who have ever wrote. But though OiTian be much inferior to Homer in this article, he will be found to be equal at lead, if not fuperior, to Virgil ; and has ii^- deed given all the difplay of human nature which the fimplc occurrences of his times could be expected to furnifii. Ko dead uniformity of character prevails in Fingal ; but on the contrary the principal charafters are not only clearly diftinguifhed, but fometimes artfully contrafted, fo as to iilullratc 448 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION on illuflrate each "other. Offiair*s heroes are, like Homer's, all brr-ve; but iheir bravery, like thofe of Homer's too, is of different kinds. For inftance ; the prudent, the fe- date, the modell and circumfpe£t Connal, is finely oppofed to the prefumptuous, rafli, overbearing, but gallant and generous Calmar. Calmar hurries Cuthullin into action by his temerity ; and when he fees the bad eii'eft of his coimfel,'^, he v/ill not fiirvive the difgrace. Connal, like another Ulyffes, attends Cuthullin to his retreat, counfels, and comforts him under his misfortune. The fierce, the proud, and high-fpirited Swaran is admirably contrafled with the calm, the moderate, and generous Fingal. The character of Ofcar is a favourite one throughout the whole poems. The amiable warmth of the young warrior ; his eager impetuofily in the day of aftion ; his paflion for fame ; his fubniiffion to his father ; his tendernefs for Malvina ; are the ftrokes of a mafterly pencil : the flrokes are few ; but it is the hand of nature, and attrads the heart. Offian's own character, the old man, the hero, and the bard, all in one, prefcnts to us, through the whole work, a moil reipeftable and venerable figure, which we aivv^ays contemplate with pleafure. Cuthullin is a hero of the highefl clafs ; daring, magnanimous, and exquifitely fenfible to honour. ' We become attached to his intereli, and are deeply touched with his diftrefs ; and, after the admiration raifed for him_ in the firft part of the poem, it is a ftrong proof of Oiiian's maflerly genius that he durfl adventure to produce to us another hero, compared with whom, even the great Cuthullin fhould be only an inferior perionage ; and who iliould rife as far above him, as Cu- thuilin rifes above the reft. IIerf, indeed, in the charafter and clefcription of Fin- gal, Oiiian triumphs almoft unrivalled : For we may boldly defy all antiquity to fnew us any hero equal to Fingal. Homer's Heclor poffeffes feveral great and amiable quali- ties ; but Hetlor is a fecondary perfonage in the Iliad, not the hero of the vv-ork. We fee him only occafionally ; we know much lefs of him than we do of Fingal ; who, not only in this Epic Poem, but in Temora, and throughout the reft of Offian's works, is prefented in all that variety of THE POEMS OF OSS IAN. 449 • of lights, which give the full difplay of a chavader. And though Hedor faithfully difcharges his duty to his coun- try, his friends, and his family, he is tindured, hov/ever, with a degree ot the fame favage ferocity, which prevails among all the Homeric heroes. For we find him infultino' over the fallen Patroclus, with the moft cruel taunts, and telling him, when he lies in the agony of death, that Achil- les cannot help him now ; and that in a fliort time his bo- dy, itripped naked, and deprived of funeral honours, fliall be devoured by the vultures*. Whereas, in the charaftei' of Fingal, concur almolt all the qualities that can ennoble human nature ; that can either make us admire the hero, or love the man. He is not only unconquerable in war, but he makes his people happy by his wifdom in the days of peace. He is truly the father of his people. He is known by the epithet of '• Fingal of the mildeft look ;" and diftinguiflied, on every occafion, by humanity and generofity. He is merciful to his foes| ; full of aileclion to his children ; full of concern about his friends ; and never mentions Agandecca, his firft love, without the ut- moll tendernefs. He is the univerfal proteftor of the dif- treifed ; " None ever went fad from Fingal." — " O Of- " car ! bend the flrong in arms ; but fpare the feeble " hand. Be thou a ftream of many tides agalnft the foes " of thy people ; but like the gale that moves the grafs, " to thofe who aftv thine aid- So Trenmor lived ; fuch " Trathal was ; and fuch has Fingal been. My arm was '• the fupport of the injured ; the weak refled behind the " lightning of my fleel." — Thefe were the maxims of true heroifm, to which he formed his grandfon. His fame is leprefented as every where fprcad ; the greateit heroes acknowledge his fuperiority ; his enemies tremble at his name j and the higheft encomium that can be be- L 1 1 flowed ^ * Iliad xvi. 830. II. xvii. 127. + When he commands his Ions, after Swaran is taken prifoncr, to " nuiTue " the reft of Lochlin, over the heath of Lena ; that no veffel may hereafter bound " on the dark-rolling waves of IniOoic ;" he means not aflurctlly, as loine linve m freprefented him, to order a gener;.^! l!?.u::^hter.of the foes, and to prcv.-nt their ■ faving thcmfelve.? by flight ; but, like a wifi; general, he conrmands nis chiefs to render the viftory complete, by a total loiu. of the enemy ; that they might ad- venture no more, for the future, to hi out any fleet again:! him or his allies. 4^o A CRITICAL DISSERTATION on llowed on one whom the poet would moil exalt, is to fav, that his foul was like the foul of Fingal. To do juftice to the poet's merit, m fupporting fuch a character as this, I muft obferve, what is not commonly at- tended to, that there is no part of poetical execution more difficult, than to draw a perfect characler in fuch a manner, as to render it diftincL and aiFefting to the mind. Some ftrokes of human imperfection and frailty, are what ufually give us the rnofl clear viev/, and the moil fenfible impref- fion of a charader ; becauie they prefent to us a man, fuch as we have feen ; they recall known features of human nature. When poets attempt to go beyond this range, and defcribe a faultlefs hero, they, for the moil part, fet before us a fort of vague undiftinguiiliable charafter, fuch as the imagination cannot lay hold of, or realize to itfelf, as the object of aifection. We know how much Virgil has failed in this particular. His perfect hero, ^neas, is an unanimated, infipid peribnage, whom we may pretend to admire, but whom no one can heartily love. But what Virgil has failed in, Offian, to our ailoniiliment, has fuc- cefsfully executed. His Fingal, though exhibited without any of the common human failings, is neverthelefs a real man ; a character which touches and interefts every rea- der. To this it has much contributed, that the poet has reprefented him as an old man ; and by this has gained the advantage of throwing around him a great many cir- cumilances, peculiar to that age, which paint him to the fancy in a more diflinft light. He is furrounded with his family ; he initrudts his children in the principles of vir- tue ; he is narrative of his pail exploits ; he is venerable with the grey locks of age ; he is frequently difpofed to moralize, like an old man, on human vanity and the prof- pe6t of death. There is more art, at leail more felicity, in this, than may at iiril be imagined. For youth and old age, are the tv/o ilates of human life, capable of being placed in the moil piclurefque lights. Middle age is more general and vague ; and has fewer clrcumitances peculiar to the idea of it. And when any object is in a fituation, that admits it to be rei^ered particular, and to be clothed with THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 451 with a variety of circumftances, it always (Lancls out more clear and full in poetical defcription. Besides human perfonages, divine or fupernatural a- gents are often introduced into epic poetry ; forming what is called the machinery of it ; which moft critics hold to be an eflential part. The marvellous, it muft be admitted, has always a great charm for the bulk of readers. It gra- tifies the imagination, and affords room for ftrikinp- and fublime defcription. No wonder, therefore, that all poets fhould have a flrong propenfity tovv^ards it. But I muit obferve, that nothing is more difficult, than to adjull pro- perly the marvellous with the probable. If a poet facri- fice probability, and fill his work with extravagant fuper- natural fcenes, he fpreads over it an appearance of romance and childifh fiftion ; he tranfports his readers from thi,s world, into a fantaftic, vifionary region ; and lofes that weight and dignity which fhould reign in epic poetry. No work, from which probability is altogether banifhed, can make a lafling or deep impreflion. Human actions and manners, are always the moft interelting objefts vx^hich can be prefented to a human mind. All machinery, there- fore, is faulty, which withdraws thefe too much from view, or obfcures them under a cloud of incredible fiftions. Be- fides being temperately employed, machinery ought al- ways to have fome foundation in popular belief. A poet is by no means at liberty to invent what fyflein of the mar- vellous he pleafes : he mufl avail himfelf either of the re- ligious faith, or the fuperflitious credulity, of the country wherein he lives ; lo as to give an air of probability to events which are moft contrary to the common couri'e of nature. In thefe refpeds, OfTian appears to mc to have been re- markably happy. He has indeed followed the fame courfe with Homer. For it is perfectly abfurd to imagine, as fome critics have done, that Homer's mythology was in- vented by him, in confequence of perfonal refiedions on the benefit it would yield to poetry. Homer was no fuch refining genius. He found the traditionary ftories on which he built his Iliad, mingled with popular legends, concerning the intervention of the gods j and he adopted thefe, 452 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION on, there, becaufe they amufed the fancy. Offian, in like manner, found the tales of his country full of ghofts and fpirits : it is likely he believed them himfelf ; and he in- troduced them, becaufe they gave his poems that folemn and marvellous caft, which fuited his genius. This was the only machinery he could employ with propriety ; be- caufe it was the only intervention of fupernaturai beings, which agreed with the common belief of the country. It was happy, becaufe it did not interfere in the leaft with the proper difplay of human charafters and actions ; be- caufe it had lefs of the incredible, than mod other kinds of poetical machinery ; and becaufe it ferved to diverfify the fcene, and to heighten the fubje^t by an awful gran- deur, which is the great defign of machinery. As Oflian's mythology is peculiar to himfelf, and makes a confiderable figure in his other poems, as well as in Fingal, it may be proper to make fome obfervations on it, independent of its fubferviency to epic compofition. It turns for the moil part on the appearances of departed fpirits. Thefe, confonantly to the notions of every rude age, are reprefented not as purely immaterial, but as thin, airy forms, which can be vifible or invifible at pleafure ; their voice is feeble ; their arm is weak ; but they are en- dowed with knowledge more than human. In a feparate ftate, they retain the fame difpofitions which animated them in this life. They ride on the wind ; they bend their airy bows ; and purfue deer formed of clouds. The ghofts of departed bards continue to fmg. The ghofts of departed heroes frequent the fields of their former fame. " They refl together in their caves, and talk of mortal " men. Their fongs are of other worlds. They come "" fometimes to the ear of refl, and raife their feeble voice." All this prefents to us much the fame fet of ideas, con- cerning fpirits, as we find in the eleventh book of the Odylfey, where Ulyiles vifits the regions of the dead : And in the twenty-third book of the Iliad, the ghoff of Patroclus, after appearing tj Achilles, vaniflies precifely like one of OfTian's, emitting a flirill, feeble cry, and melting away like fmoke. But though Homer's and OfTian's ideas concerning ghoffs THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 453 ghofts were of the fame nature, v.e cannot but obfcrve, that Offian's ghofts are drawn with much ilronger and livelier colours than thofe of Homer. Olilan defcribes ghofts with all the particularity of one who had feen and converfed with them, and whofe im.agination was full of the impreiTion they had left upon it. He calls'iip thofe awful and tremendous ide.is whicii the Simulacra modis pallentia miris, are fitted to raife in the human mind ; and which, in Shakefpear's ftyle, " harrow up the foul.'* Crugaj'y ghoft, in particular, in the beginning of the fecond book of Fin- gal, may vie with any appearance of this kind, defcribed by any epic or tragic poet whatever. Mod poets v.'ould have contented themfeives with telling us, that he refem- bled, in every particular, the living Crugal ; that his ibrm and drefs were the fame, only his face more pale and fad; and that he bore the mark of the wound by which he fell. But Ollian fets before our eyes a fpirit from the invifible world, dillinguiihed by all thofe features, Vi'hich a flrong aftonifhed imagination would give to the ghofl. " A '• dark -red ftieara of lire comes down from the hill. '' Crugal fat upon the beam ; he that lately fell by the " hand of Swaran, ftriving in the battle of heroes. His " face is like the beam of the fetting moon. His robes " are of the clouds of the hill. His eyes are like two " decaying flames. Dark is the wound of his breaft. '' The ftars dim.-twinkled through his form ; and *' his voice was like the found of a diftant ftrcam." The circumflance of the ftars being beheld, " dim-twink- " ling through his form," is wonderfully piclurefque; and conveys the moll: liveiy impreiiion of his thin and Ihiuiowy fubftance. The attitude in which he is afterwards placed, and the fpeech put into his mouth, are full of that folemn and awful fublimlty, which fuits the fubjeci:. " Dim, and " in tears, he Hood, and ftretched his pale hand over the " hero. Faintly he raifed his feeble voice, like the gale " of the reedy Lego. — My ghoft, O Connal ! is on my " native hills ; but my corfe is on the fands of Uilin. " Thou flialt never talk with Ciiigal, or find his lone fteps " in 454 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION on " in the heath. I am light as the blail of Cromla ; and " I move like the fhadow of mifl. Connal, fon of Colgar! ^' i fee the dark cloud of death. It hovers over the plains " of Lena. The fons of green Erin fhall fall. Remove " from the field of ghofts. — Like the darkened moon he " retired, in the midfl of the whiftling blaft.'* Several other appearances of fpirits might be pointed out, as among the moil fublime paflages of Offian's poetry. The circumftances of them are conliderably diverfified ; and the fcenery always fuited to the occafion. " Oicar' " flowly afcends the hill. The meteors of night fet on '"^ the heath before him. A diftant torrent faintly roars. " Unfrequent blafls ruHi through aged oaks. The half- *'' enlip;htened moon fmks dim and red behind her hill. " Feeble voices are heard on the heath. Olcar drew his " fword." -Nothing can prepare the fancy more hap- pily for the awful fcene that is to follow. " Trenmor " came from his hill, at the voice of his mighty fon. A " cloud like the fteed of the (Iranger, fupported his airy ^' limbs. His robe is of the mifl of Lano, that brings *' death to the people. His fword is a green meteor, half- " extinguifhed. His face is without form, and dark. He " lighed thrice over the hero : And thrice, the winds of *' the night roared around. Many were his words to Of- *' car-: He flowly vanifhed, like a mill that melts on the " funny hill." To appearances of this kind, we can find no parallel among the Greek or Roman poets. They bring to mind that noble defcription in the book of Job : ■"^ In thoughts from the vifions of the night, when deep " lleep falieth on men, fear came upon me, and trembling, ^' which made all my bones to fliake. Then a fpirit paffed '' before m.y face. The hair of my flefh ftood up. It ^^ flood ftill ; but I could not difcern the form thereof. "' An image was before mine eyes. There was filence ; ^' and I heard a voice— Shall m.ortal man be more jufl « than God * ?'' As Oflian's fupernatural beings are defcrlbed with a furprliing force of imagination, fo they are introduced with propriety. We have only three ghods in Fingal : That * Job iv. 13 — 17. THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 455 That of Crugal, which comes to warn the hoft of impend- ing deftruclion, and to advife them to fave themfelves by retreat ; that of Everallin, the fpoufe of Offian, which calls him to rife and refcue their fon from danger ; and that of Agandecca, which, jufh before the lafl: engagement with Swaran, moves Fingal to pity, by mourning for the approaching deftruclion of her kinfmen and people. In the other poems, ghofts fometimes appear when invoked to foretel futurity ; frequently, according to the notions of thefe times, they come as forerunners of misfortunes, or death, to thofewjiom they vifit; fometimes they inform their friends at a diftance, of their own death ; and fome- times they are introduced to heighten the fcenery on iome great and folemn occafion. " A hundred oaks burn to '' the wind ; and faint light gleams over the heath. The " ghofts of Ardven pafs through the beam ; and fiiew " their dim and diftant forms. Comala is half-unfeen on " her meteor ; and Hidallan is fullen and dim." " The awful faces of other times, looked from the clouds " of Crona." — " Fercuth ! I faw the ghoft of night. Si- " lent he ftood on that bank; his robe of mift flew on the " wind. I could behold his tears. An aged man he feem- " ed, and full of. thought." The ghofts of ftrangers mingle not with thofe of the natives. " She is feen ; but not like the daughters of " the hill. Her robes are from the ftranger's land ; and " file is ftill alone." When the ghoft of one whom we had formerly known is introduced, the propriety of the living character is frill preferved. This is remarkable in the appearance of Calmar's ghoft, in the poem entitled The Death of CuthuHin, He feems to forebode CuthuUin's death, and to beckon him to his cave. Cuthullin re- proaches him for fuppofmg that he could be intimidated by fuch prognoftics. " Why doft thou bend thy dark *' eyes on me, ghoft of the car-borne Calmar ? Would'ft " thou frighten me, O Matha's fon ! from th^ battles of ^' Cormac ? Thy hand was not feeble in v/ar ; neither was " thy voice for peace. How art thou ch^ngvu, chief of " Lara ! if now thou doft advife to fly ! Retire thou to " thy cave : Thou art not Calmar'i ghoft ; he delighted " in 456 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION on " in battle; and his arm was like the thunder of heaven." Calmar makes no return to this feeming reproach : But, " He retired in his blaft with joy ; for he had heard the " voice of his praife." This is precifely the ghoft of A- chiiies in Homer ; who, notwithilanding all the diiTatif- fadion he expreffes with his (late in the region of'the dead, as foon as he had heard his fon Neoptolemus praifed for his gallant behaviour, ftrode away with filent joy to rejoin the refl of the Ihades *. It is a great advantage of Offian's mythology, that it is not local and temporary, like that of Tnofl; other ancient poets ; which of courfe is apt to feem ridiculous, after the fuperititions have paifed away on which it is founded. Of- fian's mythology is, to fpeak fo, the mythology of human nature ; for it is founded on what has been the popular belief, in all ages and countries, and under all forms of religion, concerning the appearance of departed fpirits. Homer's machinery is always lively and amufing ; but far from being always fupported with proper dignity. The indecent fquabbles among his gods, furely do no honour to epic poetry. Whereas Offian's machinery has dignity upon all occafions. It is indeed a dignity of the dark and awful kind ; but this is proper ; becaufe coincident with the ftrain and fpirit of the poetry. A light and gay my- thology, like Homer's, would have been perfectly unfuit- able to the fubjefts on which Offian's genius was employ- ed. But though his machinery be always folemn, it is en- livened, as much as the fubjed: would permit, by thofe pleafant and beautiful appearances, which he fometimes introduces of the fpirits of the hill. Thefe are gentle fpi- rits; cefcending on fun-beams; fair-moving on the plain; their forms bright ; their voices fv.'eet ; and their vifits to men propitious. The greatefl praife that can be given, to the beauty of a living woman, is to fay, " She is fair as " the ghoft of the hill ; when it moves in a fun-beam at *• noon, over the filence of Pvlorven." '• The hunter " ihall hear my voice from his booth. He fhall fear, but *^ love my voice. For fweet fnall my voice be for my *' friends ; for pleaHmt were they to me." Besides * Ody{rcy, Lib. 11. tHE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 457 Besides ghofts, or the fpirits of deparced men, we find ill Offian fome Inflances of other kinds of machinery. Spi- rits of a fuperior nature to ghofls are fometimes alluded to, which have power to embroil the deep; to call forth winds and florms, and pour them on the land of the ftranger ; to overturn forefts, and to fend death among the people. We have prodigies too ; a Tnower of blood ; and when fome difafher is befalling at a diftance, the found of deatii heard on the firings of OlTian's harp : all perfedly confo- nant, not only to the peculiar ideas of northern nations, but to the general current of a fuperfhitious imagination in all countries. The defcription of Fingal's airy hall, in the poem called Berrathon^ and of the afcent of Malvina into it, deferves particular notice, as remarkably noble and magnificent. But, above all, the engagement of Fingal with the fpirit of Loda, in Carric-thura, cannot be men- tioned without admiration. I forbear tranfcribing the paffage, as it mull have drawn the attention of every one who has read the works of Oflian. The undaunted cou- rage of Fingal, oppofed to the terrors of the Scandinavian god ; the appearance ai-^dfpeech of that awful fpirit ; the wound which he receives, and the finiek which he lends forth, " as rolled into himfelf, he rofe upon the wind ;'*- are full of the mod: amazing and terrible majelly. I know no pafiage more fublime in the writings of any uninipired author. The fiction is calculated to aggrandize the he- ro ; v/hich it does to a high degree ; nor is it fo un- natural or wild a fiftion, as might at firft be thoughts According to the notions of thofe times, fupernatural be- ings were material, and confequently vulnerable. The fpirit of Loda was not acknowledged as a deity by Fingal ; he did not worfhip at the (tone of his power ; he plainly confidered him as the god of his enemies only ; as a local deity, whofe dominion extended no farther than to the regions where he was worihipped ; who had, therefore, no title to threaten him, and no cluim to his fubmillion. We know there are poetical precedents of great authoritv, for fictions fully as extravagant ; and if Homer be forgi- ven for making^Diomed attack, and wound in battle, the gods whom that chief himfelf worihipped, Offian furely is M ni ra par- 458 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION on ' pardonable for making his hero fuperior to the god of a foreign territory *. NoTv/iTHSTANDiNG the poetical advantages which I have afcribed to OiTian's machinery, I acknowledge it would have been much more beautiful and perfect, had the author difcovered fome knowledge of a fupreme Be- ing. Although his fiience on this head has been accounted for by the learned and ingenious tranflator in a very pro- bable manner, yet Itill it muft be held a confiderable dif- advantage to the poetry. For the moil augufl and lofty ideas that can embellifli poetry, are derived from the belief of a divine adminiilration of the univerfe : and hence the invocation of a fupreme Being, or at leaft of fome fupe- rior powers who are conceived as prefiding over human affairs, the folemnities of religious worihip, prayers pre- ferred, and aili (lance implored on critical occafions, appear with great dignity in the works of almofl all poets, as chief ornaments of their compofitions. The abfence of all fuch religious ideas from Offian's poetry, is a fenfible blank in it ; the more to be regretted, as we can eafily imagine what an iiluilrious figure they would have made under the management of fuch a genius as his ; and how finely they would have been atiapted to many fituations which occur in his Vv'orks. After fo particular an examination of Fingal, it were neediefs to enter into as full a difculTion of the conduct of Teiiiora, the other epic poem. Many of the fame obfer- vations, efpecially vv'itll regard to the great charaderiflicks of * The fcenaof this encounter of Finj';al with the fpirit of Loda, is laid in Ini- ftore, or the iflantls of Orkney ; and in the defcription of Fingal's landing there, it is faid, " A rock bends along the coatt, with all its echoing wood. On the top " is the circle of Loda, witli the moffy ftone of power." In conlirmation of Of- fian's topography, it is proper to acquaint the reader, that in thefe iflands, asl have been well informed, there are many piilais, and circles of ftones, fiill remaining, known bv the name of the {lones and ciicles of Loda, or Loden ; to which fome degree of fuperflitious regard is annexed to this day. Thefe iflands, until the year 1408, made a part of the Dmifh dominions. Their ancient languige, of which there are yet fome remains among the natives, is called the Norfe ; and is a dia- ItH, not of the Celtic, but of the Scandinavian tongue. The manners and the lu- perftiiions of the inhabitants, arc quite didinfl; from thofe of the Highlands and weftern ifles of Scotland. Their ancient fongs too, are of a different fhain and cha- racter, turning upon magical incantations and evocations from the dead, which were the favourite fubjetfs of the old Runic poetry. They have many traditions amon<^them of wais in former times with t!ie inhabitanls of the wellern iflands. THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 459 of heroic poetry, apply to both. The high merit, how- ever, of Temora, requires that we fnould not pafs it by without fome remarks. The fcene of Temora, as of Fingal, is laid in Ireland ; and the adion is of a pofterior date. Tke fubjecl is, an expedition of the hero, to dethrone and punifli a bloody ufurper, and to reftore the poffeiTion of th^ kingdom to the poflerity of the lawful prince : an undertaking worthy of the juHice and heroifm of the great Fingal. The adion is one, and complete. The poem opens with the defccnt of Fingal on the coafl, and the confultation lield among the chiefs of the enemy. The murder of the young prince Cormac, which was the caufe of the war, being antecedent to the epic adion, is introduced with great propriety as an epifode, in the nrft book. In the progrefs of the poem, three battles are defcribed, which rife in their importance above one another ; the fuccefs is various, and the iiTue for fome time doubtful ; till, at lail, Fingal brought into dif- trefs, by the wound of his great general Gaul, and the death of his fonFillan, aifames the command himfclf, and having fiain the Irifn king in fmgle combat, reftores the rightful heir to his throne. Temora has, perhaps, lefs fire than the other epic poem; but, in return, ij; has more variety, more tendcrnefs, and more magnificence. The reigning idea, fo often prefented to us, of " Fingal in the laft of his fields," is venerable and . affecling ; nor could any more noble conclufion be thought of, than the aged hero, after fo many fuccefsf ul atchieve- nients, taking his leave of battles, arid, v/ith all the folem- nities of thofe times, refigning his fpear to his fon. The events are lefs crouded in Temora than in Fingal ; actions and charafters are more particularly difpiayed ; wc are let into the tranfaclions of both hoils ; and informed of the adventures of the night as Vv^ell as of the day. The (till pathetic, and the romantic fcenery of feveral of the night- adventures, fo remarkably fuited to Oilian's genius, occa- fion a fine diverfity in the poem ; and are happily con- trafted with the military operations of the day. In moft of our author's poems, the horrors of war arc foftened by intermixed fcenes of love and friendihip. In Fingal, 460 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION on Fingal, thefe are introduced as epifodes ; in Temora, we have an incident of this nature wrought into the body of the piece ; in the adventure of Cathmor and Sul-malla. This forms one of the moft confpicuous beauties of thai poem. The diftrefs of Sul-malla, difguifed and unknown among flrangers, her tender and anxious concern for the faiety of Cathmor, her dream., and her meking remem- brance of the land of her fathers ; Cathmor's emotion when he firfl: difcovers her, his ftruggles to conceal and iupprefs his paffion, leit it Ihould unman him in the mid(t oi" war, though " his foul poured forth in fecret, when " he beheld her fearful eye ;" and the lad: interview be- tween them, when, overcome by her tendernefs, he lets her know he had difcovered her, and confefles his paffion ; all are wrought up with the mod exquifite fenfibility and delicacy. Besides the characlers which appeared in Fingal, feve- ral new ones are here introduced ; and though, as they are all the charaders of warriors, braveiy is the predomi- nant feature, they are neverthelefs diverfiiied in a fenfible and ftrildng manner. Foldath, for inRance, the general of Cathmor, exhibits the perfect picture of a favage chief- tain : Bold, and daring, but prefumptuous, cruel, and overbearing. He is diftinguiihed, on his firfl appearance, as the friend of the tyrant Cairbar ; " his ffride is haugh- " ty ; his red eye rolls in wrath." In his perfon and whole deportment, he is contrafted with the mild and wife Ilidalla, another leader of the fame anny, on whofe hu- manity and getitlenefs he looks with grca,t contempt. He profeli'edly delights in Ihife and blood. He infults over the fallen. He is imperious in his counfels, and faftious when they are not followed. He is unrelenting in all his fchemes of revenge, even to the length of denying the fu- neral fong to the dead ; which, from the injury thereby done to their ghofcs, was, in thofe days, confidered as the greateil barbarity. Fierce to the lalt, he comforts himfelf, in his dying moments, with thinking that his gholt i]-.all often leave his blafl to rejoice over the graves of thofe he had fiaih. Yet Offian, ever prone to the pa- thetic, has contrived to throw into his account of the death, even THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 461 even of this man, fome tender circumftances ; by the moving defcription of his daughter Dardulena, the lafl of his race. The character of Foidath tends much to exalt that of Cathmor, the chief commander, which is diftinguiflied by the moft humane virtues. He abhors all fraud and cruel- ty, is famous for his hofpitaiity to ilrangers ; open to eve- ry generous fentiment, and to every foft and compaffionate feeling. He is fo amiable, as to divide the reader's at- tachment between him and the hero of the poem ; though our author has artfully managed it fo, as to make Cath- mor himfelf indireftly acknowledge Fingal's fuperiority, and to appear fomewhat apprehenfive of the event, after the death of Fillan, which he knew would call forth Fin- gal in all his might. It is very remarkable, that, although Oflian has introduced into his poems three complete he- roes, Cuthullin, Cathmor, and Fingal, he has, however, fenfibly didinguilhed each of their characters. Cuthullin is particularly honourable ; Cathmor particularly amiable; Fingal wife and great, retaining an afcendant peculiar to himfelf, in whatever light he is viewed. But the favourite figure in Temora, and the one moft highly finiflied, is Fillan. His character is of that fort, for which Oflian fliews a particular fondnefs ; an eager, fervent young warrior, fired with all the impatient enthu- fiafm for military glory, peculiar to that time oi life. He had fketched this in the defcription of his own fon Ofcar ; but as he has extended it more fully in Fillan, and as the charafter is fo confonant to the epic ftrain, though, fo far as I remember, not placed in fuch a confpicuous light by any other epic poet, it may be worth while to attend a little to Ofiian's management of it in this inftancc. Fillan was the youngeft of all the fons of Fingal ; younger it is plain than his nephew Ofcar, by whofe fame and great deeds in war, we may naturally fuppofe his am- bition to have been highly ftimulated. Withal, as he is younger, he is defcribed as more raih and fiery. His firft appearance is foon after Ofcar's death, when he was em- ployed to watch the motions of the foe by night. In a con- verfation with his brother Oflian, on that occafion, we learn 45? A CRITICAL DISSERTATION ON learn that it v/as not long fmce he began to lift the fpear. " Few are the marks of my fword in battle ; but my foul " is lire." He is with fome difiiculty reilrained by Offian. from going to attack the enemy ; and complains to him, that his father had never allowed him any opportunity of fignalifmg his valour. " The king hath not remarked niv " fword : I go forth with the crowd ; I return without my " fame." Soon after, when Fing;al accordino- to cudom was to appoint one of his chiefs to command the army, and each was (landing forth, and putting in his claim to this honour, Fillan is prefejited in the follovving moif pidur- efque and natural attitude. " On his fpear itood the fon " of Ciatho, in the wandering of his locks. I'hrice he " raifed his eyes to Fingal ; his voice thrice failed him as " he fpoke. Fillan could not boaft of battles : at once he " flrode away. Bent over a diltant ftream he flood ; the "tear hung in his eye. He ftruck, at times, the thiftle's " head, with his inverted fpear." No lefs natural and beautiful is the defcription of Fingal's paternal emotion on this occafion. " Nor is he unfeen of Finga), Side-long " he beheld his fon. - He beheld him with burfling joy. He ^'' hid the big tear with his locks, and turned amidft his " crouded foul." The command, for that day, being given to GauL, Fillan rulhes amidft the thickeil of the foe, faves Gaul's life, who is wounded by a random arrow, and diflin- guifhes himfelf fo in battle, that " the days of old return on " Fijigal's mind, as he beholds the renovv^n of his fon. As '* the fun rejoices from the cloud, over the tree his beams " have railed, whilft it fliakes his lonely head on the heath, '^ fo jovfal is the king over Fillan." Sedate, however, and v^'i^e, he mixes tiie praife which he beftows on him with fome reprehenhon of his rafhnefs, " My fon, I faw thy " deeds, and my foul was glad. Thou art brave, fon of " Ciatho, but headlong in the flrife. So did not Fingal '* advance, though he never feareHa foe. Let thy people " be a riege behind thee ; they are thy flrength in the " field. Then fhalt thou be long renowned, and behold " the tombs of thy fiithers." On the next day, the greateft and the laft of Fillan*s life, the charge is committed to him of leading on the hofb to THE POEMS Of OSSIAN. 403 to battle. Firig?rs fpeech to his troops on this occafion, is full of noble fentiftient ; and where he recommends his fon to their care, extremely touching. " A young beam *^ is before you ; few are his fteps to war. They are few, " but he is valiant ; defend my dark-haired fon. Bring '- him back with, joy ; hereafter he may (land alone. His '^ form is like his fathers; his foul is a flame of their fire.'* "When the battle begins, the poet puts forth his ftrength to defcribe the exploits of the young hero ; who, at laft encountering and killing with his own hand, Foidath the oppofite general, attains the highefl pinnacle of glory. In what follows, when the fate of Fillan is drawing near, Of- fian, if any where, excels himfelf. Foidath being flain, and a general rout begun, there was no rcfource left to the enemy but in the great Cathmor himfelf, who in this extremity defcends from the hill, wheie, according to the cuftom of thofe princes, he furveyed the battle. Obfervc how this critical event is v/rought up by the poet. " Wide " fpreading over echoing Lubar, the flight of Bolga is " rolled along. Fiilan hung forward on their fteps ; and " ftrewed the heath v/ith dead. Fingal rejoiced over his " fon. Blue-fliielded Cathmor rofe. Son of Alpin, " bring the harp ! Give Fillan's praife to the wind ; raife " high his praife in my hall, while yet he fliines in war. " Leave, blue-eyed Clatho ! leave thy hall ! behold that " early beam of thine! The holt is withered in its courfe. " No farther look it is dark — light-trembling from " the harp, ftrike, virgins ! Itrike the found." The fud- den interruption, and fufpenfe of the narration on Cath- mor's rifmg from his hill, the abrupt burfting into the praife of Fillan, and the palnonate apoitrophe to his mo- ther Clatho, are admirable efforts of poetical art, in ordei* to intereft us in Fillan's danger ; and the whole is height- ened by the immediately following frniile, one of the mod: magnificent and fublime that is to be met with in any poet, and which, if it had been found in Homer, would have been the frequent fubjed of admiration to cfitics : " Fillan " is like a fpirit of heaven, that defcends irom ilie fkirt *' of his blaft. The troubled ocean feels bis fteps, as he " ftrides 464 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION on " flrides from wave to wave. His path kindles behind '^ him ; iflands fliake their heads on the heaving feas." But the poet's art is not yet exhaufled. The fall of this noble young warrior, or, in Offian's ftyle, the extinc- tion of this beam of heaven, could not be rendered too interefling and affecting. Our attention is naturally drawn towards Fingal. He beholds from his hill the rifmg of Cathmor, and the danger of his fon. But what Ihall he do ? " Shall Fingal rife to his aid, and take the fword of " Luno ? What then fliould become of thy fame, fon of " white-bofomed Clatho ? Turn not thine eyes from Fin- " gal, daughter of Iniftore ! I fliall not quench thy early " beam. — No cloud of mine fhall rife, my fon, upon thy " foul of fire." Struggling between concern for the fame, and fear for the fafety of his fon, he withdrav/s from the fight of the engagement ; and difpatches Offian in hade to the held, with this affectionate and delicate injunclion. " Father of Ofcar !" addrefling him by a title which on this occafion has the higheft propriety, " Father of Ofcar! " lift the fpear ; defend the young in arms. But conceal " thy fteps from Fillan's eyes : He mull not know that I " doubt his fteel." Offian arrived too late. But unwilling to defcribe Fillan vanquifhed, the poet fuppreffes all the cir- cumftanceS'of the combat with Cathmor ; and only Ihev/s us the dying hero. We fee him animated to the end with the fame martial and ardent fpirit ; breathing his lad in bitter regret for being fo early cut off from the field of glory. " Offian, lay me in that hollow rock. Raife no " ftoiie above me ; left one Ihould aik about my fame. I " am fallen in the firft of my fields; fallen without renown. " Let thy voice, alone, fend joy to my flying foul. Why " ffiould the bard know where dwells the early-fallen Fii- " Ian ?" He who, after tracing the circumilances of this ftory, fnall deny that our bard is polfelfed of high fenti- ment and high art, mufi be ftrangely prejudiced indeed. Let him read the ftory of Pallas in Virgil, which is of a fimilar kind ; and, after ail the praife he may juftly be- ftow on the elegant and finiflied defcription of that amiable author, let him fay, which of the two poets unfold moft of the human foul. I wave infifting on any more of the parti- THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 465 ticulars In Temora ; as my aim is rather to lead the rea- der into the genius and fpirit of Ofiian's poetry, than to dwell on all his beauties. The judgment and art difcovered in conducing works of fuch length as Fingal and Temora, diftinguiih them from the other poems In this colleftion. The fmaller pie- ces, however, contain particular beauties no lefs eminent. They are hiflorical poems, generally of the elegiac kind ; and plainly difcover themfelves to be the work of the fame author. One confident face of manners Is every where prefented to us ; one fpirit of poetry reigns ; the mafterly hand of Olfian appears throughout ; the fame rapid and animated ftyle ; the fame ftrong colouring of imaginati- on, and the fame glowing fenfibility of heart. Befides the unity which belongs to the compofitions of one man, there Is moreover a certain unity of fubjed, which very happily connects all thefe poems. They form the poetical hiflory of the age of FingaL The fame race of heroes, whom we had met with in the greater poems, Cuthullin, Ofcar, Connal, and Gaul, return again upon the flage ; and Fin- gal himfelf is always the principal figure, prefented on eve- ry occafion, with equal magnificence, nay, rifing upon us to the laft. The circumftances of Offian's old age and blindnefs, his furviving all his friends, and his relating their great exploits to Malvina, the fpoufe or miftrefs of his beloved fon Ofcar, furnifli the finefl poetical fituatlons that fancy could devife, for that tender pathetic which reigns in Offian's poetry. On each of thefe poems, there might be room for fepa- rate obfervations, with regard to the conduft and difpofi- tion of the incidents, as well as to the beauty of the de- fci'iptions and fentlments. Carthon is a regular and high- ly-finlflied piece. The main flory is very properly intro- duced by Clefsammor's relation of the adventure of his youth ; and this introduftion is finely heightened by Fin- gal's fong of mourning over Moina ; In which Offian, ever fond of doing honour to his father, has contrived to diftlnguifli him, for being an eminent poet, as weil as war- rior. Flngal's fong upon this occafion, when " his thou- " fand bards leaned forward from their feats, to hear the N n n " voice 466 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION on " voice of the king," is inferior to no paflage in the whole book ; and with great judgment put in his mouth, as the ferioufnefs, no leis than the fubhmity of the ftrain. is pe- cuHarly fuited to the hero's character. In Darthuia, are aflembled almoft ail the tender images that can touch the heart of man ; friendfnip, love, the affedions of parents, fons, and brothers, the diftrefs of the aged, and the un- availing bravery of the young. The -beautiful addrefs to the moon, with which the poem opens, and the transition from thence to the iubject, molt happily prepare the mind for that train of affeding events that is to follow. The flory is regular, dramatic, interefting to the laft. He who can read it without emotion, may congratulate himfelf, if he pleaies, upon being completely arm.ed againft fympa- thetic forrovs^. As Fingal had no occafion of appearing in the adion of this poem, Offian makes a very artful tranfi- tion from his narration, to what was paffing in the halls of Selma. The found heard there on the firings of his harp, the concern which Fingal fnows on hearing it, and the in- vocation of the ghofiis of their fathers, to receive the he- roes falling in a diftant land ; are introduced with great beauty of imagination, to increafe the folemnity, and to diverfify the fcenery of the poem. Carric-thura is full of the mofl: fublime dignity ; and has this advantage, of being more chearful in the fubjecl-, and m.ore happy in the cataftrophe, than mofl of the o- ther poems : though tempered at the fame time with epi- fodes, in that flrain of tender melancholy, which feems to have been the great delight of OfTian and the bards of his age. Lathmon is peculiarly diftinguiflied, by high gene- rofity of fentiment. This is carried fo far, particularly in the refuial of Gaul, on one fide, to take the advantage of a ileeping foe ; and of Lathmon, on the other, to over- power by numbers the two young warriors, as to recall into one's mind the manners of chivalry ; fome refem- blance to which may perhaps be fuggefled by other inci- dents in this colleftion of poems. Chivalry, however, took rife in an age and country too remote from thofe of Ollian, to admit the fufpicion that the one could have bor- rowed any thing from the other. So far as chivalry had any THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 467 any real exiftence, the fame military enthiifiafm, which gave birth to it in the feudal times, might, in the days ot Offian, that is, in the infancy of a rifmg (late, through the operation of the fame caufe, very naturally produce Cirects of the fame kind on the minds and manners of men. So far as chivalry was an ideal fyftem, exifdng only in ro- mance, it will not be thought furprizing, when we reflect on the account before giver of the Celtic bards, that this imaginary refinement of heroic manners fnould be found among them, as mxuch, at leaft, as among the Tr&badores, or flrolling Proven9al bards, in the tenth or eleventh cen- tury ; whofe fongs, it is faid, firft gave rife to thofe roman- tic ideas of heroifm, which for fo long a time enchanted Europe*. OfTian's heroes have all the gallantrv and gene- rohty of thofe fabulous knights, v/ithout their extrava- gance ; and his love-fcenes have native tendernefs, with- out any mixture of thofe forced and unnatural conceits which abound in the old romances. The adventures re- lated by our poet which refemble the moit thofe of ro- mance, concern women who follow their lovers to war, diiguifed in the armour of men ; and thefe are fo manag- ed as to produce, in the difcovery, feveral of the mofl in- terefting fituations ; one beautiful inftance of which may be feen in Carric-thura, and another in Calthon and Col- mal. OiTHON A prefents a fituation of a different nature. In the abfence of her lover Gaul, The had been carried off and ravifhed by Dunrommath. Gaul difcovers the place where flie is kept concealed, and comes to revenge her. The meeting of the two lovers, the fentiments and the behaviour of Oithona on that occafion, are defcribed with fuch tender and exquifite propriety, as does the greateft honour, both to the art and to the delicacy of our author ; and would have been admired in any poet of the mod: re- fined age. The condu£t of Croma mufl flrike every rea- der as remarkably judicious and beautiful. We are to be prepared for the death of Malvina, which is related in the fucceeding poem. She is therefore introduced in perfon ; " (he has heard a voice in a dream ; fhe i^els the tlutter- " inj * Vid. Huetius dc origine fabularam Romancnfiunti, 468 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION on " ing of her foul ;'* and, in a mod moving lamentation addreffed to her beloved Ofcar, Ihe fmgs her own death- fong. Nothing could be calculated with more art to footh and comfort her, than the flory which Offian relates. In the young and brave Fovargormo, another Ofcar is- intro- duced ; his praifes are fung ; and the happinefs is fet be- fore her, of thole who die in their youth, " when their " renown is around them ; before the feeble behold them " in the hall, and fmile at their trembling hands.'* But no-where does Oflian's genius appear to greater advantage, than in Berrathon, which is reckoned the conclufion of his fongs, " The lafl found of the Voice " of Cona." C)ualis olor noto pofiturus littore vitam, Ingemit, et mceflis mulcens concentibus auras Prsefago queritur venientia funera cantu. The whole train of ideas is adinirably fuited to the fub- ]&&.. Every thing is full of that invifibie world, into which the aged Bard believes himfelf now ready to enter. The airy hall of Fingal prefents itfelf to his view ; " he fees " the cloud that fhall receive his ghoil ; he beholds thq " mift that fhall form his robe when he appears on his " hill ;" and all the natural objefts around him feem to carry the prefages of death. " The thillle fhakes its beard " to the wind. The flower hangs its heavy head ; it '• feems to fay, I am covered vi^ith the drops of heaven ; " the time of my departure is near, and the blaft that " fhall fcatter my leaves." Malvina's death is hinted to him in the moil delicate manner by the fon of Alpin. His lamentadon over her, her apotheofis, or afcent to the ha- bitation of heroes, and the introduction to the ftory which follows from the mention which Oflian fuppofes the father of Malvina to make of him in the hall of Fingal, are all in the higheft fpirit of poetry. " And doil thou remem- " ber Ollian, O Tofcar, fon of Conloch ? The battles of '' our youth Vv ere many ; our fwords went together to the " field." Nothing could be more proper than to end his fongs with recording an exploit of the father of that Mal- vinn, of whom his heart was now fo full j and who, from , firfl THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 4% firft to lad, had been fuch a favourite objed throughout all his poems. The fcene of mofl of Offian's poems is laid in Scotland, or in the coaft of Ireland oppofite to the territories of Fin» gal. When the fcene is in Ireland, we perceive no change of manners from thofe of OiTian's native country. For as Ireland was undoubtedly peopled with Celtic tribes, the language, cuftoms, and religion of both nations were the fame. They had been feparated from one another by mi- gration, only a few generations, as it fliould feem, before our poet's age ; and they ftill maintained a clofe and fie- quent intercourfe. But when the poet relates the expedi- tions of any of his^ heroes to the Scandinavian coaft, or to the iflands of Orkney, which were then part of the Scan- dinavian territory, as he does in Carric-thura, Sul-nialla of Lumon, and Cath-loda, the cafe is quite altered. Thofe countries were inhabited by nations of the Teutonic de- fcent, who in their manners and religious rites differed widely from the Celtge ; and it is curious and remarkable, to find this difference clearly pointed out in the poems of OiTian. His defcriptions bear the native marks of one vvho was prefent in the expeditions which he relates, and who defcribes what he had ken with his own eyes. No fooner are we carried to Lochlin, or the illands of Iniftore, than we perceive that we are in a foreign region. New objects be- gin to appear. We meet every where with the ftones and circles of Loda, that is, Odin, the great Scandinavian deity. We meet with the divinations and inchantments, for which it is well known thofe northern nations were early famous. " There, mixed with the murmur of wa- " ters, rofe the voice of aged men, who called the forms " of night to aid them in their war ;" whilft the Caledo- nian chiefs who affifted them, are deicribed as {landing at a diftance, heedlefs of their rites. That ferocity of man- ners which diftinguiihed thofe nations, alfo becomes con- fpicuous. In the combats of their chiefs there is a pecu- liar favagenefs ; even their women are bloody and fierce. The fpirit, and the very ideas of Regner I.odbrog, that northern fcalder whom I formerly quoted, occur to us again. '• The hawks," Offran makes one of the Scandi- navian 470 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION on navian chiefs fay, " rufli from ail their winds ; they are " wont to trace my courfe. We rejoiced three days above " the dead, and called the hawks of heaven. They came " from all their winds, to feaft on the foes of Annir." Dismissing now the feparate confideration of any of our author's works, I proceed to make lome obfervations on his manner of writing, under the general heads of De- fcription. Imagery, and Sentiment. A POET of original genius is always diftinguiflied by his talent for defcription *. A fecond-rate writer difcerns no- thing new or peculiar in the objed: he means to defcribe. His conceptions of it are vague and loofe ; his expreffions feeble ; and of courfe the objed: is prefented to us indif- tinctly and as through a cloud. But a true poet makes us imagine that we fee it before our eyes : he catches the dif- tinguifhing features ; he gives it the colours of life and reality ; he places it in fuch a light that a painter could copy after him. Thia happy talent is chiefly owing to a lively imagination, which firfl receives a ftrong imprefiion of the cbjed: ; and then, by a proper feleftion of capital pi6:urefque circumftances employed in defcribing it, tranf- mits that impreil'ion in its full force to the imaginations of others. That Offian pofieifes this defcriptive power in a high degree, we have a clear proof from the eft'ecl which his defcriptions produce upon the imaginations of thofe who read him with any degree of attention and tafte. Few poets are more interefting. We contraft an intimate ac- quaintance with his principal heroes. The charafters, the manners, the face of the country become familiar ; we even think we could draw the figure of his ghofts : In a word, whilft reading him, we are tranfported as into a new region, and dwell among his objefts as if they were all real. It were eafy to point out feveral inftances of exquifite painting in the works of our author. Such, for inftance, as the fcenery with which Temora opens, and the attitude Cairbar is there prefented to us ; the defcription of the young prince Cormac, in the fame book ; and the ruins of * See the rules of poetical defcription excelletifly illurtiateci by I^ord Kaims, iB liis Elements of Criticiiii!, vol, ill, chap. 21. Of narration and defcnptioB. THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 471 of Balclutha in CarthoPx. " I have feen the walls ofBal- " clutha, but they were defolate. The fire had refounded " in the halls ; and the voice of the people is heard on " more. The ftream of Clutha was removed from its " place by the fail of the walls. The thiftle fhook there " its lonely head : The mofs whiftled to the wind. The " fox looked out from the windows ; the rank grafs of " the wall waved round his head. Defolate is th;^ dwell- " ing of Moina ; filence is in the houfe of her fathers.'* Nothing alfo can be more natural and lively than the man- ner in which Carthon afterwards defcribes how the con- iiagration of this city affeded him when a child : " Have " I not feen the fallen Balclutha ? And fhall I feaft with " Comhal's fon? Comhal! who threw his fire in the midil *' of my father's hall ! I was young, and knew not the *' caufe why the virgins wept. The columns of fmoke '' pleafcd mine eye, when they rofe above my walls : I " often looked back with gladncfs, when my friends fled " above the hill. But when the years of my youth came *' on, I beheld the mofs of my fallen walls. My figh " arofe with the morning ; and my tears dcfcended with " night. Shall I not fight, I faid to my foul, againfl the " children of my foes ? And I will fight, O bard ! I feel " the (Irength of my foul." In the fame poem, the af- fembling of the chiefs round Fingal, who had been warn- ed of fome impending danger by the appearance of a pro- digy, is defcribed with fo many piclurefque circumltances, that one imagines himfelf prefent in the alTembly. " The " king alone beheld the terrible fight, and he forefaw the " death of his people. He came in filence to his hall, " and took his father's fpear ; the mail rattled on his " bread. The heroes rofe around. They looked in fi- " lence on each other, marking the eyes of Fingal. They " faw the battle in his face. A thoufand fliields are pla- " ced at once on their arms ; and they drew a thoufimd *' fwords. The hall of Selma brightened around. The " clang of arms afcends. The grey dogs hov/l in their " place. No word is among the mighty chiefs. Each " marked the eves of the king ; and half-affumed his «' fpear." It 472 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION on It has been objefted to Offian, that his defcriptions of itiilitary actions are imperfecl, and much lefs diverfified by circumftances than thofe of Homer. This is in fome meafure true. The amazing fertiHty of Homer's inven- tion is no where fo much difplayed as in the incidents of his battles, and in the little hiftory pieces he gives of the perfons flain. Nor indeed, with regard to the ta- lent of defcription, can too much be faid in praife of Ho- mer. Every thing is alive in his writings. The colours with which he paints are thofe of nature. But Oilian's ge- nius was of a different kind from Homer's. It led him to hurry towards grand objects, rather than to amufe him- felf v/ith particulars of lefs importance. He could dwell on the death of a favourite hero ; but that of a private man feldom (topped his rapid courfe. Homer's genius was more comprehenfive than OfTian's. It included a wider circle of objecfs ; and could work up any incident into defcription. OfTian's was more limited ; but the region within which it chiefly exerted itfelf was the highefl of allj the region of the pathetic and fublime. We muft not imagine, however, that Offian's battles confiff only of general indiitind defcription. Such beau- tiful incidents are fometimes introduced, and the circum- ftances of the perfons llain fo much diverfified, as fhew that he could have embellifiied his military fcenes with an a- bundant variety of particulars, if his genius had led him to dwell upon them. One man " is (tretched in the duft " of his native land ; he fell, where often he had fpread '' the feaft, and often raifed the voice of the harp." The maid of Iniftore is introduced, in a moving apoftrophe, as weeping for another; " and a third, as rolled in the " duft he lifted his faint eyes to the king," is remember- ed and mourned by Fingal as the friend of Agandecca. The Mood pouring from the wound of one v/ho is flain by night, is heard " hifling on the half-extinguifhed oak," which had been kindled for giving light : Another, climb- ing a tree to efcape from his foe, is pierced by his fpear from behind ; " Ihrieking, panting he fell ; whilft mofs " and withered branches piirfue his fall, and llrew the " blue arms of Gaul." Never was a finer picture drawn of THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 473 of the ardour of two youthful warriors than the foUov/- ing : " I faw Gaul in his armour, and my foul was " mixed with his : For the fire of the battle was in his " eyes j he looked to the foe with joy. We fpoke the words " of friendfHip in fecretj and the lightning of our " fv/ords poured together. We drew them behind the " wood, and tried the Itrength of our arms on the cmp- " ty air." OssiAN is always concife in his defcriptions, which adds much to their beauty and force. For it is a fri"ean miftake to imagine, that a croud of particulars, or a very full and extended ilyle, is of advantage to defcrip- tion. On the contrary, fuch a diftufe manner for the moll part weakens it. Any one redundant circumilance is a nuifance. It encumbers and loads the fancy, and renders the main image indiftinft. '* Obftat," as Quin-. tilian fays with regard to flyle, " quicquid non adjuvat." To be concife in defcription, is one thing; and to be general, is another. No defcription that refts in gene- rals can poiTibly be good ; it can convey no lively idea j for it is of particulars only that we have a diilindt con- ception. But, at the faine tinie, no ftrong imagination dwells long upon any one particular ; or heaps together a mafs of trivial ones. By the happy choice of fome one, or of a few that are the moil ftriking, it prefents the image more complete, fhews us more at one glance, than a feeble imagination is able to do, by turning its object round and round into a variety of lights. Tacitus is of all profe writers the moft concife. He has even a degree of abruptnefs refembling our author : Yet no writer is more eminent for lively defcription. W hen Fingal, af- ter having conquered the haughty Swaran, propoll-s to difmifs him with honour : " Raife to-morrow thy white *' fails to the wind, thou brother of At r.ndecca !" he conveys, by thus addrelTing his enemy, a fcronger im- preflion of the emotions then paffing within his mind, than if whole paragraphs had been fpenc in dcfcribing the conflict between relentment againil Sv/aran and the tender remembrance of his ancient love. No amplifi- cation is needed to give us the moft full idea ot a hardy O o o veteran. 474 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION on veteran, after the following words : '' His fliield is mark- " ed with the ilrokes of battle ; his red eye defpifes " danger." When Ofcar, left alone, was furrounded by foes, " he flood," it is faid, " growing in his place, " like the flood of the narrow vale ;" a happy reprefen- tation of one, who, by daring intrepidity in the midft of danger, feems to increafe in his appearance, and be- comes more formidable every moment, like the fudden riling of the torrent hemmed in by the valley. And a v/hole croud of ideas, concerning the circumftances of dom.eftic forrow occafioned by a young Vv'arrior's firft go- ing forth to battle, is poured upon the mind by thefe v/ords : " Calmar leaned on his father's fpear ; that fpear " which he brought from Lara's hall, when the foul of ^' his mother was fad.". The concifenefs of O'llan's defcriptions is the more proper on account of his fubiefts. Defcriptions of gay and fmiling fcenes may, without any difadvantage, be am.plified and prolonged. Force is not the predominant quality expected in thefe. The defcription may be weakened by being diffufe, yet notwithftanding, may be beautiful ftill. Whereas, with refpett to grand, folemn and pathetic fubjefts, which are Ofiian's chief field, the cafe is very different. In thefe, energy is above ail things required. The imagination mufl be feized at once, or not at all j and it is far more deeply impreffed by one ilrong and ardent image, than by the anxious minutenefs of laboured iilufbration. But Offian's genius, though chiefly turned towards the fublinie and pathetic, was not confined to it : In jubie6ts alfo of grace and delicacy, he difcovers the hand oF a mafter. Take for an example the following ele- gant defcription of Agandecca, wherein the tendernefs of Tibullus feems united with the majefhy of Virgil. *^ The daughter of the fnow overheard, and left the hall " of her fecret figh. She came in all her beauty; like " the moon from the cloud of the Eaft. Lovelinefs " was around her as lip;ht. Her fteos were like the m.u- " fic of fongs. She faw the youth, and loved him. He *' was the ftolen figh of her foul. Her blue eyes rolled *' on THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 475 " on him in fecret; and flie bleil the chief of Morvcn." Several other inftances might be produced of the feel- ings of love and friendfhip, painted by our author with a mod natural and happy delicacy. The fimplicity of OlTian's manner adds great beauty to his defcriptions, and indeed to his Vvhoie poetry. We meet with no affecled ornaments ; no forced refinement j no marks either in fiyle or thought of a ftudied endea- vour to fliine and i'parkie. OlTian appears every where prompted by his feelings ; and to fpeak from the abun- dance of his heart. I remember no m.ore than one in- ftance of what can be called quaint tliought in rli'S whole collection of his v/orks. It is in the tiril book of Fin- gal, where from the tombs of two lovers two lonely yews are mentioned to have fprung, " whofe branches wilhed '^ to meet on high." This fympathy of the trees vv-ith the lovers, may be reckoned to border on an Italian con- ceit: and it is fomewhat curious to find tliis fin.9;le in- ftanceof that fort of wit in our Celtic poetry. The "joy of grief," is one of Ofiian's remarkable ex- preffions, feveral times repeated. Tf any on^ fiiall think that it needs to be juftined by a precedent, he may find it twice ufed by Homer; in the Iliad, when Achilles is vifited by the ghoft of Patrocliis ; and in the OdyfTey, when UlyfTes meets his mother in the fnadcs. On both thefe oocafions, the heroes, melted with tendernefs, la- ment their not having it in their pov/er to throw their arms around the ghoft, " that v/e might," fay they, *' in *^ a mutual embrace, enjoy the delight of grief." ———Kp'.ipo7orirciP7ru^,ic-Sc(yo6io. . But in truth the expreflion ftands in need of no defence from authority ; for it is a natural and juft exprefiion ; and conveys a clear idea of that gratification, which a virtuous heart often feels in the indulgence ot a tender melancholy. OlTian makes a very proper diftin6lion be- tween this gratification, and the deftrudive efi'ect of over- powering grief. ''There is a joy in grief, when peace " dwells in the breafts of the hd. But forrov/ waftes " the mournful, O daughter of Tolcar, and their days << are * OdvfT. 11. 211. lilad, 23. 98. 476 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION on ** are few." To " give the joy of grief," generally fjgaifies to raife the ftrain of foft and grave mufic ; and finely chara6lerifes the talte of Ofnan's age and country. In thofe days, when the fongs of bards were the great delight of heroes, the tragic miife was held in chief ho- nour.-, gallant aftions, and virtuous fufferings, were the cliofen theme ; preferably to that light and trifling flrain of poetry and mufic, which promotes light and trifling manners, and ferves to emafculate the mind. " Strike the harp in my hall, " faid the great Fingal, in the midft of youth and viftory, " Strike the harp in m^y " hall, and let Fingal hear the fong. Pieafant is the " joy of grief! It is like the fhower of fpring, when " it foftens the branch of the oak; and the young leaf " lifts its green head. Sing on, O bards ! To-mor- " row we lift the fail." Personal epithets have been much ufed by ail the poets of the moft ancient ages: and when well chofen, not general and unmeaning, they contribute not a lit- tle to render the ftyle defcriptive and animated. Be- fides epithets founded on bodily diftinftions, a-kin to many of Homer's, we find in Offian feveral which are remarkably beautiful and poetical. Such as, Ofcar of the future fights, Fingal of the mildefl look, Carril of other timies, the mildly-blulhing Everallin -, Bragela, the lonely fun-beam of Dunfcaich ; a Culdee, the ion of the fecret cell. But of all the ornaments employed in defcriptive po- etry, comparifons or fnniles are the moft fplendid, Thefe chiefly form what is called the imagery of a poem : And as they abound fo much in the works of Oifian, and are commonly among the favourite pafTiiges of all poets, it may be expefted that I fhouid be fomewhat particular in my remarks upon them. A POETICAL fr.nile always fuppofes two obie6ls brought together, between which there is Ibme near relation or connection in the f;incy. What that relation ought to be, cannot be precifeiy defined. For various, almoft num.berlefs, are the analogies formed among objc6ls, by a fprightly imagination. The relation of aftual fimili- tudc, THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 477 tudc, or likenefs of appearance, is far from being tiie only foundation of poetical comparifon. Sometimes a refemblance in the effeft produced by two objects, is made the connecting principle : Sometimes a refem- blance in one diftinguilhing property or circumftance. Very often two objefts are brought together in a fninile, though they referable one another, ftriftly fpcaking, in nothing, only becaufe they raife in the mind a train of nmilar, and what may be called, concordant ideas ; fo that the remembrance of the one, when recalled, ferves to quicken andjieighten the impreffion made by the other. Thus, to give an inftance from our poet, the plcafure with which an old man looks back on the exploits of his youth, has certainly no direft refemblance to the beauty of a fine evenings farther than that both agree in producing a certain calm, placid joy. Yet Offian has founded upon this, one of the mofl beautiful com- parifons that is to be miCt with in any poet. ^' Wilt " thou not liflen, fon of the rock, to the fong of Ofiian ? '' My foul is full of other times; the joy of my youth " returns. Thus the fun appears in the well, after thq *^ fleps of his brightnefs have moved behind a ftorm. " The green hills lift their dewy heads. The blue '' ftreams rejoice in the vale. The aged hero comes " forth on his ftafF; and his grey hair glitters in the " beam." Never was there a finer group of objects. It raifes a ftrong conception of the old man's joy and elation of heart, by difplaying a fcene, which produces in every fpedator, a correfponding train of pleafing emo- tions ; the declining fun looking forth in liis brightnefs after a ftorm ; the chearful face of all nature j and the flill life finely animated by the circumllance of the aged hero, with his fcaff and his grey locks ; a circumftance both extremely pifturefque in itfelf, and peculiarly fuited to the main obje6l of "the comparifon. Such analogies and affociations of ideas as thefe, are highly pleafing to the fancy. They give opportunity for introducing many a fine poetical pifture. They diverfify the fcene -, they aggrandize the fubjecl ; they keep the imagination awake and fprightly. For as the judgment is principally ex- ercifed 478 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION on ercifed in diftinguifhing objefts, and remarking the dif- ferences among thofe which feem alike j fo the higheft amufement of the imagination is to trace likenefles and agreernents among thofe which feem different. The principal rules which refpect poetical compari- fons are, that they be introduced on proper occafions, when the mind is difpofed to relifh them ; and not in the midft of foiiie fevere and agitating paffion, which cannot admit this play of fancy -, that they be founded on a refemblance neither too near and obvious, fo as to give little amufement to the imagination in tracing it, nor too faint and remote, fo as to be apprehended with dif- ficulty ■, that they ferve either to illuftrate the principal objc'fc, and to render the conception of it, more clear and diftinfti or at leaft, to heighten and embeliifh it, by a fuitable alTociation of images *. Every country has a fcenery peculiar to itfelf j and the imagery of a good poet v/iil exhibit it. For as he copies after nature, his allufions will of courl'e be taken from thofe objeds which he fees around him, and which have often ftruck his fancy. For this reafon, in order to judge of the propriety of poetical imagery, we ought to be, in fome meailire, acquainted vvith the natural hiftory of the country where the fcene of the poem is laid. The mtrodudlion of foreign images betrays a poet, copying not from nature, but from, other v/riters. Hence fo ma- ny Lions, and Tygers, and Eagles, and Serpents, which we meet v/ith in the fimiles of modern poets ; as if thefe animals had acquired fome right to a place in poetical comparifons for ever, becaufe employed by ancient au- thors. They employed them with propriety, as objefts generally known in their country ; but they are abfurdiy ufed for illuflration by us, who know them only at fe- cond-hand, or by defcription. To moft readers o^ mo- dern poetry, it were more to the purpofe to defcribe Li- ons or Tygers by hmiles taken from men, than to com- pare men to Lions. OfTian is very corre6t in this parti- cular. His imagery is, without exception, copied from that face of nature, which he law before his eyes ; and by * See Elements of Criucifm, ch. 19. vol. j. THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 479 by confequence may be expeftcd to be lively. We meet with Ro Grecian or Italian fcenery ; but with the mifts, and clouds, and ftorms ot a northern mountainous region. No poet abounds more in funiles than Offian. There are in this colledllon as many, at leaft, as in the whole Iliad and OdyOey of Homer. I am indeed inclined to think, that the works of both poets are too much croud- ed with them. Similes are fparkling ornaments; and like all things that fparkle, are apt to dazzle and tire us by their luftre. But if Offian's funiles be too frequent, they have this advantage of being commonly fliorter than Homer's i they interrupt his narration lefs ; he juft glan- ces afide to fome refembling objefb, and inilantly re- turns to his former tract. Homer's fimiles include a wi- der range of objefts. But in return, Offian's are, v/ith- out exception, taken from objefts of dignity, which can- not be faid for all thofe which Homer employs. The Sun, the Moon, and the Stars, Clouds and Meteors, Lightning and Thunder, Seas and Whales, Rivers, Torrents, Winds, Ice, Rain, Snov/, Dews, Milt, Fire and Smoke, Trees and Forefts, Heath and Grafs and Flowers, Rocks and Mountains, Mufic and Songs, Light and Darknefs, Spirits and Ghofts ; thefe form the circle, within which Offian's comparifons generally run. Some, not many, are taken from Birds and Beads ; as Eagles, Sea Fowl, the Horfe, the Deer, and the Mountain Bee j and a very few from fuch operations of art as v/ere then known. Homer has diverfified his imagery by many more allufions to the animal world ; to Lions, Bulls, Goats, Herds of Cattle, Serpents, Infefts ; and to the various occupations of rural and paftoral life. Offian's defe6l in this article, is plainly owing to the defart, un- cultivated ftate of his country, which fuggefted to him few images beyond natural inanimate objects, in their rudeft form. The birds and animals of the country v/ere probably not numerous; and his acquaintance with them was flender, as they were little fubje6led to the ufi-s of man. The great obje61:ion made to Offian's imagery, is its uniformity, and the too frequent repetition of the iame comoa- 480 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION on comparifons. In a work ih thick fown with fimiles, one could not but expeft to find images of the fame kind fometimes fuggelled to the poet by refembiing objefts; efpecially to a poet like Offian, who wrote from the im- mediate impulfe of poetical enthufiafm, and without much preparation of ftudy or labour. Fertile as Ho- mer's imagination is acknowledged to be, who does not know how often his Lions and Bulls , and Flocks of Sheep, recur with little or no variation ^ nay, fometimes in the very fame words ? The objedion made to Offian is, however, founded, in a great meafure, upon a mif- take. It has been fuppofed by inattentive readers, that wherever the Moon, the Cloud, or the Thunder, returns in a fimile, it is the fame fimile, and the fame Moon, or Cloud, or Thunder, which they had met with a few pages before. Whereas very often the fimiles are widely differ- ent. The objeft, whence they are taken, is indeed in fubftance the fame j but the image is newj for the ap- pearance of the object is changed; it is prefented to the fancy in another attitude ; and clothed with new cir- cumilances, to make it fuit the different iliuitration for which it is employed. In this, lies Offian's great art j in fo happily varying the form of tlie few natural appear- ances with which he was acquainted, as to make them conefpond to a great many different objects. Let us take for one inftance the Moon, which is very frequently introduced into his comparifons ; as in nor- thern climates, where the nights are long, the Moon is a greater objeft of attention, than in the climate of Ho- mt-r ; and let us view how much our poet has diverfified its appearance. The fliield of a warrior is like " the dark- " ened m.oon when it moves a dun circle through the *' heavens." The face of a ghofl, wan and pale, is like "^ the beam of the fetting moon." And a different ap- pearance of a ghoft, thin and indiftin6l, is like " the " new moon feen thro' the gathered mill, when the fky *' pours down its flaky fnow, and the world is filent and " darki" or in a different form ftill, is like the " watry " beam of the moon, when it rufhes from between tv*'o "^ clouds, and the midnight-lhower is on the field." A very THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 481 very oppofite ufe is made of the moon in the defcription of Agandecca: " She came in all her beauty, like the " moon from the cloud of Eaft." Hope, fucceeded by difappointment, is " joy rifmg on her face, and forrow, " returning again, like a thin cloud on the moon." But when Sv/aran, after his defeat, is cheared by Fingal's ge- nerofity, " His face brightened like the full moon of hea- " ven, v/hen the clouds vanifh away, and leave her calm " and broad in the midft of the Iky." Venvela is " bric^ht " as the moon when it trembles o'er the weftern wave ;" but the foul of the guilty Uthal is " dark as the troubled " face of the moon, when it foretels the ftorm." And by a very fanciful and uncommon allufion, it is faid of Cormac, who was to die in his early years, " Nor long " flialt thou lift the fpear, mildly-lhining beam of youth ! " Death Hands dim behind thee, like the darkened half " of the moon behind its growing light.'* Another inftance of the fame nature may be taken from mift, which, as being a very familiar appearance in the country of Offian, he applies to a variety of purpofes, and purfues through a great many forms. Sometimes, which one would hardly expeft, he employs it to heighten the appearance of a beautiful object. The hair of Morna is " like the mift of Cromla, when it curls on the rock, " and fhines to the beam of the weft." — " The fong comes " with its mufic to melt and pleafe the ear. It is like foft " mift, that rifmg from a lake pours on the filent vale. " The green flov/ers are filled with dew. The fun returns " in its ftrength, and the mift is gone *."— But, for the moft part, mift is employed as a fimilitude of fome difa- greeable or terrible objeft. " The foul of Nathos was iad, " like the fun in the day of mift, when his face is watry " and dim." " The darknefs of old age comes like the P p p " mift * There is a remarkable propriety in this comparifon. It is intended to explain the efFcft of foft and mouinful mufic. Armin appears difturbed at a perloi mance of this kind, Carmor fays to him, " Why burRs the figh of Armin P Is theie a ••* caufe to mourn? The fong comes with its mufic to melt and pleale the e:u. It " is like foft mift, &c." that is, fuch mournful fongs have a happv etfc6l to foften the heart, and to improve it by tender emotions, as the moifture oi the mift refrcll:- es and nourifties the flowers ; whilft the fadnefs they occafion is only tranlifnt, and foon difpelled by the fucceeding occupations and aumfements of lift; " llie lu« " returns in its'lUength, and the mift is gone," 482 A crviTiCAL DISSERTATION o^ *' mid of the defart." The face of a ghoft is " pale as '• the mift of Cromla.'* " The gloom of battle is rolled " along as mift that is poured on the valley, when ftorms *' invade the filent fun-(hlne of heaven.'* Fame fuddenly departing, is likened to " m.ift that fiies au'ay before the " ruftling v.'ind of the vale." A ghoft, fiowly vanifhing, to " mift that melts by degrees on the fimny hill.'* Cair- bar, after his treacherous allaffination of Ofcar, is com- pared to a peftilenvial fog. " I love a foe like Cathmor," fays Fingal, " his foul is great ; his arm is ftrong ; his *' battles are full of fame. But the little foul is like a va- " pour that hovers round the marfliy lake. It never rifes " on the green hill, left the winds meet it there. Its " dwelling is in the cave ; and it fends forth the dart of " death." This is a fimile highly finiihed. But there is another which is ftill more ftriking, founded alfo on mift, in the 4th book of Temora. Two faftious chiefs are con- tending ; Cathmor the king interpofcs, rebukes, and fi- lences them. The poet intends to give us the higheft idea of Cathmor's fuperiority ; and moft efteftually accomplifh- es his intention by the following happy image. " They " funk from the king on either fide ; like two- columns " of morning mill:, when the fun rifes between them, on *i his glittering rocks. Dark is their rolling on either *' fide ; each towards its reedy pool." Thefe inftances may fufficienlly Ihew v/ith what richnefs of imagination Oftian's comparifons abound, and, at the fame time, with what propriety of judgment they are employed. If his field was narrow, it muft be admitted to have been as well cul- tivated as its extent woidd allow. As it is ufual to judge of poets from a comparifon of their fimiles, more than of other pailages, it will perhaps be agreeable to the reader, to fee how Homer and Offian have conducted fome images of the fame kind. This might be fhewn in maijy inftances. For, as the great ob- jeds of nature are common to the poets of all nations, and make the general ftore-houfe of all imagery, the ground- work of their comparifons muft, of courfe, be frequently the fame. I fnall feleft only a few of the moft confidera- bie from both poets. Mr. Pope's tranflation of Homer caR THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. A^-i - o can be of no ufe to us here. The parallel is altogether unfair between profe, and the impofnig harmony of flowing numbers. It is only by viewing Homer in the fimplicity of a profe tranilation, that we can form any compa'rifon between the two bards. The fhock of two encountering armies, the noife and the tumult of battle, afford one of the moil grand and awful fubjeds of defcription ; on which all epic poets have exerted their flrength. Let us firfl hear llomer. The following defcription is a favourite one, for we find it twdce repeated in the fame v/ords *. " When nov/ the conflift- " ing hofts joined in tjie field of battle, then v/ere mutu- *' ally oppofed fhields, and fv/ords,' and the lirength of " armed men. The boffy. bucklers were dalhed againll " each other. The univerfal tumult rofe. " There were *' mingled the triumphant Ihouts and the dying groans of " the viftors and the vanquiflied. The earth iireamed " with blood. As when vv^Inter-torrents, rufiiing from *' the mountains, pour into a narrow valley their violent " waters. They ilfue from a thoufand fprings, and mix " in the hollowed channel. The difiant Ihepherd hears, " on the mountain, their roar from afar. Such was the *' terror and the fnout of the engaging armies." In ano- ther paffage, the poet, much in the manner of Oflian, heaps fimile on fimile, to exprefs the vaftnefs of the idea, with which his imagination feems to labour. " With a *' mighty fliouc the hofi:s engage. Not fo loud roars the " wave of ocean, when driven againll the fhore by the " whole force of the boifterous north ; not fo loud in the *^ woods of the mountain, the noife of the flame, when " rifing in its fury to confume the forefc ; not fo loud the <^'- wind among the lofty oaks, when the VvTath of the florm " rages ; as was the clamour of the Greeks and Trojans, " v/hen, roaring terrible, they ruflied againfl each other.f " To thefe defcriptions and fimiles, we may oppofe the following from Oliian, and leave the reader to judge be- tween them. He will find images of the fame kind em- ployed ; commonly lefs extended ; but thrown forth with ji glowing rapidity which charadterifes our poet, ^' As " autumn's * Iliad, iv.4-i6. and Iliad, viii. 60. i Hiad, xiv. 393. 484 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION on " autumn's dark ftorms pour from two echoing hills, to- " wards each other approached the heroes. As two dark " Ttreams from high rocks meet and mix, and roar on " the plain ; loud, rough and dark in battle, meet Loch- " iin and Inisfail. Chief mixed his ftrokes with chief, " and man with man. Steel clanging, founded on fteel. " Helmets are cleft on high ; blood burfts, and fmokes '' around. — As the troubled noife of the ocean, when roll " the waves on high ; as the lad peal of the thunder of " heaven, fuch is the noife of battle." — " As roil a thou- " fand waves to the rock, fo Swaran's hofl came on ; as *' meets a rock a thoufand waves, fo Inisfail met Swaran. " Death raifes all his voices around, and mixes with the " found of fhields. — The field echoes from wing to wing, " as a hundred hammers that rife by turns on the red fon " of the furnace." — " As a hundred winds on Morven ; " as the ftreams of a hundred hills ; as clouds fly fucceffive *' over heaven ; or as the dark ocean aflTaults the fliore of " the defart ; fo roaring, fo vaft, fo terrible, the armies " mixed on Lena's echoing heath." In feveral of thefe images, there is a remarkable fimilarity to Homer's ; but Y/hat follows is fuperior to any comparifon that Homer ufes on this fubjedt. " The groan of the people fpread " over the hills; it was like the thunder of night, when *' the cloud burfts on Cona, and a thoufand ghofls fhriek " at once on the hollow wind." Never was an image of more awful fublimity employed to heighten the terror of battle. Both poets compare the appearance of an army ap- proaching, to the gathering of dark clouds. " As when " a ihepherd," fays Homer, " beholds from the rock a " cloud borne along the fea by the weftern wind ; black " as pitch it appears from afar, failing over the ocean, *' and carrying the dreadful ftorm. He flirinks at the " fight, and drives his flock into the cave : Such, under *' the Ajaces, moved on, the dark, the thickened phalanx *' to the war*." " They came," fays Offian, " over " the defart like ftormy clouds, when the winds roll them f over the heath ; their edges are tinged with lightning ; " and * Iliad, iv. 27^. THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 485 ''• and the echoing groves forefee the florm." The edges of the cloud tinged with lightning, is a fublime idea; but the fliepherd and his flock, render Hon-icr's fimile more picturefque. This is frequently the difference betv/een the two poets. Offian gives no more than the main image, ftrong and full. Homer adds circumfiances and appendages, which amufe the fancy by enlivening the fcenery. Homer compares the regular appearance of an arrtiy, to " clouds that are fettled on the mountain-top, in the " day of calmnefs, when the firength of the north wind " fleeps |." Offian, with full as much propriety, com- pares the appearance of a difordered army, to " themoun- " tain-cloud, when the blafl hath entered its womb ; " and fcatters the curling gloom on every fide." Offian's clouds alTume a great many forms ; and, as we might ex- pedb from his climate, are a fertile fource of imagery to him. " The warriors followed their chiefs, like the ga- " thering of the rainy clouds, behind the red meteors of " heaven.'* An army retreating without coming to ac- tion, is likened to " clouds, that having long threatened " rain, retire fiowly behind the hills." The piclure of Oithona, after fhe had determined to die, is lively and delicate. " Her foul was refolved, and the tear was dried " from her wildly-looking eye. A troubled joy rofc on " her mind, like the red path of the lightning on a ftor- " my cloud." The image alfo of the gloomy Cairbar, meditating, in filence, the aflairmation of Ofcar, until the moment camie when his defigns were ripe for execution, is extremely noble, and complete in all its parts. " Cairbar " heard their words in filence, like the cloud of a fhower ; " it fhands dark on Cromla, till the lightning burfts its " fide. The valley gleams with red light ; the fpirits of " the ftorm rejoice. So ftood the filent king of Temora *' — at length his words are heard." Homer's comparifon of Achilles to the Dog-Star, is very fublime. " Priam beheld him rufliing along the " plain, fhining in his armour, like the flar of autumn ; " brieht are its beams, diitinguiflied amidil the multitude " of i- Iliad, V. 522. 486 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION o N " of fiars in the dark hour of night. It rifes in its fplen- " dor ; but its fplendor is fatal ; betokening to miferable " men, the deftroying heat *." The firft appearance of Fingal, is, in Hke manner, compared, by Ofiian, to a ftar or meteor. " Fingal, tall in his fliip, flretched his bright " lance before him. Terrible was the gleam of his fteel : " it was like the green meteor of death, fetting in the " heath of Malmor, when the traveller is alone, and the " broad moon is darkened in heaven.'* The hero's ap- pearance in Komer, is more magnificent ; in Oflian, more terrible. A TREE cut down, or overthrown by a ftorm, is a fimi- litude frequent among poets for defcribing the fall of a warrior in battle. Homer employs it often. But the mofl; beautiful, by far, of his comparifons, founded on this ob- ject, indeed one of the mod beautiful in the whole Iliad, is that on the death of Euphorbus. " As the young and " verdant olive, which a man hath reared with care in a " lonely field, where the fprings of water bubble around " it ; it is fair and fiouriihing ; it is fanned by the breath " of all the winds, and loaded with white, blolfoms ; " when the fudden blaft of a whirlwind defcending, roots " it out from its bed, and ftretches it on the dull f ." To this, elegant as it is, we may oppofe the following fmiile of Offian's. relating to the death of the three fons of Uf- noth. " They fell, like three young oaks which flood " alone on the hill. The traveller faw the lovely trees, " and wondered how they grew fo lonely. The blaft of " the defart came by night, and laid their green heads " low. Next day he returned ; but they were withered, " and the heath was bare." Malvina's allufion to the fame objecl, in her lamentation over Ofcar, is fo exquifite- ly tender, that I cannot forbear giving it a place alfo. " I '" was a lovely tree in thy prefence, Ofcar ! with all my " branches round me. But thy death came like a blaft " from the defart, and laid my green head low. The '• fpring returned with its fliowers ; but no leaf of mine " arofe." Several of Oifian's fimiles taken from trees, ure remarkably beautiful, and diverfified with well choferi circum- * Iliad, xxii. 26. + Iliad, xvii. 53. THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 487 circumftances ; fuch as that upon the deith of Ryno and Oria ; " They have fallen like the oak of the defart; when " it lies acrofs a ftream, and withers in the wind of the " mountains :" Or that which Offian applies to himfelf ; " I, like an ancient oak in Morven, moulder alone in my " place ; the bhift hath lopped my branches away j and I " tremble at the wings of the north." As Hom.er exalts his heroes, by comparing them to gods, Offian makes the fame ufe of comparifons, taken from fpirits and ghofts. Swaran " roared in battle, like " the flirill fpirit of a ftorm that fits dim on the clouds of " Gormal, and enjoys the death of the mariner." His people gathered around Erragon, " like florms around " the ghoft of night, when he calls them from the top of " Morven, and prepares to pour them on the land of the " ftranger." — '' They fell before my fon, like groves in *' the defart, when an angry ghofh ruflies through night, " and takes their green heads in his hand." In fuch ima- ges, OiTian appears in his ftrength ; for very feldom have fupernatural beings been painted with fo much fublimity, and fuch force of imagination, as by this poet. Even Ho- mer, great as he is, muft yield to him in funiles formed upon thefe. Take, for inflance, the following, which is the moll remarkable of this kind in the Iliad. " Merriones " followed Idomeneus to battle, like Mars the deflroyer ^' of men, when he ruflies to war. Terror, his beloved *' fon, flrong and fierce, attends hmi ; who fills with dif- " may, the moft valiant hero. They come from Thrace, " armed againll the Ephyrians and Phlegians ; nor do they " regard the prayers of either ; but difpoie of fuccefs at " their wall*." The idea here, is undoubtedly noble : but obferve what a figure OlTian fets before the aitonillied imagination, and with what fublimely-terrible circumftan- ces he has heightened it. " He rufhed in the found of his " arms, like the dreadful fpirit of Loda, when he comes " in the roar of a thoufand florm.s, and fcatters battles " from his eyes. He fits on a cloud over Lochlin'o feas. " His mighty hand is on his fword. The winds lift his ^' flaming * Ilizd. xiil. 208. 488 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION on " flaming locks. So terrible was Cuthullin in the day of " his fame." Homer's comparifons relate chiefly to martial fubje£ls, to the appearances and motions of armies, the engagement and death of heroes, and the various incidents of war. In Oflian, we find a greater variety of other fubjecls illuftrat- ed by fimiles ; particularly, the fongs of bards, the beauty of women, the different circumfl:ances of old age, forrow, and private diflrefs ; which give occafion to much beauti- ful imagery. What, for inltance, can be more delicate and moving, than the following fmiile of Oithona's, in her lamentation over the diflionour flie had fuffered ? " Chief of Strumon," replied the fighing maid, " why " didft thou come over the dark-blue wave to Nuath's " mournful daughter ? Why did not I pafs away in fecret, " like the flower of the rock, that lifts its fair head un- *^ feen, and (trews its withered leaves on the blall ?" The mufic of bards, a favourite objefl: with Offian, is illuftrated by a variety of the moll beautiful appearances that are to be found in nature. It is compared to the calm fliower of fpring ; to the dev/s of the morning on the hill of roes ; to the face of the blue and Hill lake. Two fimiles on this fubjecl, I fliall quote, becaufe they would do honour to any of the mod celebrated dailies. The one is, " Sit " thou on the heath, O bard ! and let us hear thy voice ; " it is pleafant as tke gale of the fpring that fighs on the " hunter's ear, when he wakens from dreams of joy, and " has heard the mufic of the fpirits of the hill." The other contains a fhort, but exquifitely tender image, ac- companied v/ith the fineft poetical painting. " The mu- " fic of Carrii was like the memory of joys that are paft, " pleafant and mournful to the foul. The ghofl:s of de- " parted bards heard it from Slimora's fide. Soft founds " fpread along the v/ood ; and the filent valleys of night " rejoice." What a figure v/ould fuch imagery and fuch fcenery have made, had they been prefentcd to us, adorned with the fweetnefs and harmony of the Virgilian numbers ! I HAVE chofen all along to compare Ollian with Ho- mer, rather than Virgil, for an obious reafon. There is a much THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 489 a much nearer correfpondence between the times and manners of the two former poets. Both wrote in an early- period of fociety ; both are originals ; both are diftin- guiflied by fmiplicity, fubhmity, and fire. The correcl elegance of Virgil, his artful imitation of Homer, the Roman flatelineis which he every where maintains, admit no parallel with the abrupt boldnefs, and enthufiatick warmth of the Celtic bard. In one article, indeed, there is a refemblance. Virgil is more tender than Homer ; and thereby agrees more with Offian ; with this difference, that the feelings of the one are more gentle and poliihed, thofe of the other more flrong ; the tendernefs of Virgil foftens, that of Offian diifolves and overcomes the heart. A RESEMBLANCE may be fometimes obferved between Offian *s comparifons, and thofe employed by the facred writers. They abound much in this figure, and they ufe it with the utmofl propriety *. The imagery of Scripture exhibits a foil and climate altogether different from thofe of Offian ; a warmer country, a more fmiling face of na- ture, the arts of agriculture and of rural life much farther advanced. The wine-prefs, and the threfliing-floor, arc often prefented to us, the Cedar and the Palm-tree, the fragrance of perfumes, the voice of the Turtle, and the beds of Lilies. The fimiles are, like Offian's, generally fhort, touching on one point of refemblance, rather than fpread out into little epifodes. In the following example may be perceived what inexpreffible grandeur poetry re- ceives from the intervention of the Deity. " The nati- ons fiiall ruffi like the rufliings of many waters ; but God ffiall rebuke them, and they ffiall lly far off, and ffiall be chafed as the chaff of the mountains before the wind, and like the down of the thiftle before the whirl- wind f .'* Besides formal comparifons, the poetry of Offian is em- belliffied with many beautiful metaphors : Such as that remarkably fine one applied to Deugela ; " She was co- " vered with the light of beauty ; but her heart was the ** houfe of pride." This mode of expreffion, which fup- Q q q preff«s * See Dr.Lowihde Sacra Potfi Hcbr»orHm, ■ f Ifaiah xvli. 13. 490 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION on prefles the mark of comparifon, and fubflitutes a figured defcription in room of the objetSt defcribed, is a great en- livener of flyle. It denotes that glow and rapidity of fancy, which, without paufmg to form a regular fimile, paints the object at one flroke. " Thou art to me the " beam of the eaft, rifmg in a land unknown." " In " peace, thou art the gale of fpring ; in war, the moun- " tain-dorm.'* " Pleafant be thy reft, O lovely beam ! " foon hail thou fet on our hills I The fteps of thy de- " parture v/ere ftately, like the moon on the blue-trem- " bling wave. But thou halt left us in darknefs, firft of " the maids of Lutha ! — Soon haft thou fet, Malvina ! '' but thou rifeft, like the beam of the eaft, among the " fpirits of thy friends, where they fit in their ftormy " halls, the chambers of the thunder." This is correct, and finely fupported. But in the following inftance, the metaphor, though very beautiful at the beginning, be- comes imperfect before it clofes, by being improperly mixed w4th the literal fenfe. " Trathal went forth with " the ftream of his people ; but they met a rock : Fingal " ftood unmoved ; broken, they rolled back from his " fide. Nor did they roll in fafety ; the fpear of the " king purfued their flight." The hyperbole is a figure which we might expert to find often employed by Oflian ; as the undifciplined irna- gination of early ages generally prompts exaggeration, and carries its objects to excefs ; whereas longer experi- ence, and farther progrefs in the arts of life, chaften men's ideas and expreftions. Yet Oftian's hyperboles appear not to me, either fo frequent or fo harlli as might at firft have been looked for ; an advantage owing, no doubt, to the more cultivated ftate, in which, as was before fhown, poetry fubfifted among the ancient Celtse, than among moft other barbarous nations. One of the moft exag- gerated defcriptions in the whole work, is what meets us in the beginning of Fingal, where the fcout makes his report to Guthullin of the landing of the foe. But this is fo far from deferving cenfure, that it merits praife, as being, on that occafion, natural and proper. The fcout arrives, trembling, and full of fears -, and it is well THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 491 well known, that no pafTion difpofes men to hyperbolize more than terror. It both annihilates themfelv'es in their own apprehenfion, and magnifies every objeft which they view through the medium of a troubled imagination. Hence all thole indiflind images of formidable greatnefs, the natural marks of a difturbed and confufed mind, which ■occur in Moran's defcription of Swaran's appearance, and in his relation of the conference which they held toge- ther ; not unlike the report, which the affrighted Jewifli fpies made to their leader, of the land of Canaan. " The *' land through which we have gone to fearch it, is a land " that eateth up the inhabitants thereof; and all the pco- " pie that we faw in it, are men of a great llature : and *' there faw we giants, the fons of Anak, which come of *' the giants ; and we were in our own fight as grafs- " hoppers, and fo were we in their fight *." With regard to perfonificatians, i formerly obferved that Offian was fparing, and I accounted for his being fo. Allegorical perfonages he has none ; and their abfence is not to be regretted. For the intermixture of thefe fha- dowy beings, which have not the fupport even of mytho- logical or legendary belief, with human a6lort-, feldoni produces a good effeOL The fidion becomes too vifible and phantaftick ; and Gverthrows that imprefiion of rea- lity, which the prabable recital of human aftions is cal- culated to make upon the mind. In the ferious and pa- thetick fcenes of Offian efpecially, allegorical charafters would have been as much out of place, as in Tragedy ; ferving only unfeafonably to amufe the fancy, whilll they flopped the current, and weakened the force, of paflion. With apoftrophes, or addreifes to perfons abfent ot dead, which have been, in all ages, the language of paf- fion, our poet abounds ; and they are among his higheft beauties. Witnefs the apoflrophe, in the firlt book of Fingal, to the maid of Iniftore, whofe lover had fallen in battle ; and that inimitably fine one of Cuthullin to 13ra- gela, at the conclufion of the fame book. He commands the harp to be flruck in her praife ; and the mention of Bragela's name, immediately fuggefling to him a crowd of * Numbers xiii. 2,-, 2i^- 492 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION on of tender ideas ; " Doft thou raife thy fair face from the " rocks," he exclaims, ." to find the fails of Cuthullin ? " The fea is rolling far diftant, and its white foam fhall " deceive thee for my fails." And now his imagination being wrought up to conceive her as, at that moment, really in this fituation, he becomes afraid of the harm fhe may receive from the inclemency of the night ; and with mi enthufiafm, happy and affefting, though beyond the cautious (train of modern poetry, " Retire," he proceeds, retire, for it is night, my love, and the dark winds figh in thy hair. Retire to the hall of my feafts, and think of the times that are pad ; for I will not return till the ftorm of war has ceafed. O Connal, fpeak of wars and arms, and fend her from my mind ; for love- ly, with her raven hair, is the white-bofomed daughter of Sorglan." This breathes all the native fpirit of paffion and tendernefs. The addrelles to the fun, to the moon, and to the even- ing ftar, muft draw the attention of every reader of tafte, as among the moft fplendid ornaments of this colledion. The beauties of each are too great, and too obvious, to need any particular comment. In one palfage only of ihe addrefs to the moon, there appears fome obfcurity. ' Whither deft thou retire from thy courfe, when the ' darknefs of thy countenance grows ? Haft thou thy hall ' like Oflian ? Dvvelleft thou in the ftiadow of grief ? ' Have thy fifters fallen from Heaven ? Are they who re- ' joiced Vvdth thee at night, no more ? Yes, they have ' fallen, fair light ! and thou doft often retire to mourn.'* We may be at a lofs to comprehend, at firft view, the ground of thefe fpeculations of Oflian, concerning the moon ; but when all the circumftances are attended to, they will appear to flow naturally from the prefent fitua- tion of his mind. A mind under the dominion of any ftrong pafiion, tindures, with its own difpofition, every objetl which it beholds. The old bard, with his heart bleeding for the lofs of all his friends, is meditating on the diflerent phafes of the moon. Her waning and dark- nefs, prefents to his melancholy imagination, the image of forrow ; and prefently the idea arifes, and is indulged, thatj THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 493 that, like himfelf, llie retires to mourn over the lofs of other moons, or of ftars, whom he calls her fiflers, and fancies to have once rejoiced with her at night, now fallen from heaven. Darknefs luggeiled the idea of mourning, and mourning fuggefted nothing fo naturally to Ofllan, as the death of beloved friends. An inltance precifely fimi- laf of this influence of paffion, may be feen in a paflage which has always been admired of Shakefpear's King Lear. The old man on the point of diPaaclion, through the in- humanity of his daughters, fees Edgar difguiied like a beg- gar and a madman. Lear. DidH thou give all to thy daughters ? And art thou come to this ? Couldefl thou leave nothing ? Didfl thou give them all? Kent. He hath no daughters, Sir. Lear. Death, traitor ! nothing could have fubdued nature. To fuch a lownefs, but his unkind daughters. King Lear., Act 3. Scene 5. The apoftrophe to the winds, in the opening of Dar- thula, is in the highelt fpirit of poetry. " But the winds " deceive thee, O Darthula ; and deny the woody Etha " to thy fails. Thefe are not thy mountains, Nathos, nor " is that the roar of thy climbing waves. The halls of " Cairbar are near, and the towers of the foe lift their *' head. — Where have ye been, ye fouthern winds ; when " the fojis of my love were deceived? But ye have been " fporting on plains, and purfuing the thillle's beard. O " that ye had been ruitling in the fails of Nathos, till the "• hills of Etha role ! till they role in their clouds, and faw " their coming chief." This paflTage is remarkable for the refemblance it bears to an expoilulation with the wood nymphs, on their abfence at a critical time ; which, as a favourite poetical idea, Virgil has copied from Theocri- tus, and Milton has very happily imitated from both. Where were yc, nymphs ! when the remorfclcfs deep Clos'd o'er th<; head of your lov'd Lycidas? For 494 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION oi« For neither were ye playing on the fteep Where your old bards, the famous Druids, lie ; Nor on the fhaggy top of Mona high, Nor yet where Deva fpreads her wizard ftream *. Having now treated fully of Offian's talents, with rc- fpect to defcription and imagery, it only remains to make fome obfervations on his fentiments. No fentiments can be beautiful without being proper ; that is, fuited to the chara£ler and fituation of thofe who utter them. In this refped:, Ollian is as correft as moft writers. His charac- ters, as above obferved, are in general well fupported ; which could not have been the cafe, had the fentiments been unnatural or out of place. A variety of perfonages of different ages, fexes, and conditions, are introduced into his poems ; and they fpeak and adt with a propriety of fentiment and behaviour, which it is furprifing to find in fo rude an age. Let the poem of Darthula, through- out, be taken as an example. But it is not enough that fentiments be natural and pro- per. In order to acquire any high degree of poetical me- rit, they muff alfo be fublime and pathetic. The fublime is not confined to fentiment alone. It be- longs to defcription alfo ; and whether in defcription or in fentiment, imports fuch ideas prefented to the mind, as raife it to an uncommon degree of elevation, and fill it with admiration and aftonifhment. This is the highelt ef- fect either of eloquence or poetry : And to produce this effeft, requires a genius glowing with the ftrongeft and warmefl conception of fome object awful, great or magni- ficent. That this character of genius belongs to Ollian, may, I think, fufficiently appear from many of the paffa- ges I have already had occafion to quote. To produce more inftances, were fuperfluous. If the engagement of Fingal with the fpirit of Loda, in Carric-thura ; if the en- counters of the armies, in Fingal j if the addrefs to the fun, in Carthon j if the fimiles founded upon ghofts and fpirit* * Milton's Lycidas. See Theocrit. Idyll. I. n« wax! k^ »